Evacuee to Fairburn
Born: 24th February 1930
Story
Walter Bryant was 10 years-old when he came up from Brighton as an evacuee, at the beginning of the Second World War in 1940. He was taken in by a couple who were living in Fairburn: Sidney Clayton (1908-1978) and Edna Robinson (1910-1991) who had married in 1932, and had a son Desmond who would have been aged seven, and a son Jeffrey who would have been approaching his second birthday.
When the war ended, Walter did not return home, but stayed in Fairburn until he was 21 years old. Even then he kept in touch with the Clayton family until his death in 1998, and visited regularly, at least once a year, staying for long periods. He would often also meet up with the Claytons for the Rugby finals at Wembley, having become a Castleford supporter.
Walter became very good friends with the baby boy, Jeff Clayton, and they became lifelong friends. Walter was best man at Jeff’s wedding to Maureen in 1959, and Maureen and Jeff attended the wedding of Walter’s daughter, in Brighton.
Pictured below left: Walter stood right, with Jeff Clayton (at front) and Joe Fox (stood left holding a pigeon). Pictured below right: Walter (front) with Edna and Sidney Clayton
In a letter to the children of Fairburn school, some years ago, Walter wrote: “Edna said ‘Come in, I’ve got a little boy and a baby.’ That baby and I are still friends today.”
When Walter first arrived in Fairburn, his trousers were neither long nor short, but somewhere in-between. So that he would fit in with the other boys, Edna made them into short trousers, and eventually Walter got to play football for Fairburn School. He quickly got to know which days everybody baked in Fairburn, and who would give him a bun.
In an article written for the booklet Fairburn, Part of its History, Walter wrote in 1983:
“I can remember catching the train from London to Selby. I had no idea where I was going, but the journey was paradise, being away from the sirens and the raids of the South. I wasn’t part of the main evacuation party as they had travelled up earlier. I was ten years old and felt completely on my own. The train arrived at Selby during a raid and we were met by our own teacher from Brighton, a Miss New, who took us by bus to Burton Salmon, where we stayed overnight with the stationmaster and his family. The next day, Mr. Tommy Bramley collected me and took me to Mrs. Edna Clayton’s. She was in the middle of cooking lunch and from the minute I stepped through the door, I was made to feel part of the family.
“It was the summer of 1940, and I’ll always remember the blossom on the trees, the village was spotlessly clean. Fairburn wasn’t like the villages of Southern England, it was more attractive, and each villager had a tremendous sense of pride in their own particular part of the environment. I’ll never forget my first sight of the stone walls. I just couldn’t understand why they didn’t fall down. Naturally, I did have moments of regret and loneliness in the first few months, and especially strong in my memory is the moment when I realised I wouldn’t be able to run down to the sea to ask the fishermen if they wanted any help laying out the nets. However, such times were more than compensated for by the new friends I made, for by the time the first winter came, I had mastered the rules of “Kick-Off-Can”, learnt how to attach buttons and cotton so that they rattled on the window-panes of unsuspecting villagers, and had my first experience of skating on the Ings.
“There was one incident I can remember vividly and it sent a real tingle round the whole village. Low flying aircraft had been reported, and rumours began to spread that a German parachutist was hiding close to the village; the searching and mounting excitement lasted for several days and nights. The other big event was of course, the dropping of the bomb near the railway – I wasn’t allowed to visit the site on my own, we went in groups as though visiting a secret shrine.
“It is the warmth and friendliness of the village which I will always treasure, whether it was illustrated as I chatted with older villagers as we watched the lorries on the turnpike, or through the constant hospitality in people’s homes – friendliness which compelled me to cycle back from Brighton in 1946.”
Photographs and information from Mrs. Maureen Clayton, widow of Jeff Clayton and Jill Edwards, daughter of Jeff Clayton.
Kippax Roll of Honour 