My name is Wendy Carson and I was born in a house called "Windermere" in Hilton Road, Gurnard in the year 1943. My first memory, believe it or not, was of the family sitting around the piano whilst my half brother Peter played. He had a sailors uniform on. My brother Henry, who at my mother’s funeral confirmed this story, came running in saying, "The Jerries are coming". This was the name we gave to the Germans during the war. Peter picked me up and everyone in the room ran for the air raid shelter at the bottom of the garden. Peter tripped and fell and lay covering me with his body. That is all I remember of that, but as I am still here and Peter died some years ago - we obviously survived at the time. The house I was born in belonged to the lady next door who after the war wanted it back so unfortunately at the age of four we had to move. I visit the Island almost every year and I go to see "Windermere". A few years ago on one of my visits my boyfriend said I should ask if I could go into the room where I was born. I plucked up courage and knocked on the door. An old lady called come in and as I entered she looked hard at me. I said, "I don’t expect you know me" and before I could say any more she said "Yes I do. You’re Wendy Carson and I used to bath you in this very sink when you were a baby". I was absolutely flabbergasted. I was allowed to go all through the house and it was just as I had described it to the old lady. I believe her name was Mrs. Brown but I’m not sure. Last year when I was there the house had been enlarged as someone else has it now. Hilton Road has not changed at all. It is still the old stony road just as it was when I was born.

Our family, which consisted of my father Captain George Charles Carson, my mother Lillian (better known as Lil), sister Audrey and brothers Henry Eric, Malcolm and Alan moved into number 7 Love Lane. The houses were not all finished and so we all had fun playing on the scaffolding. I remember some of the families and if anyone knows what became of them I would love it if you would contact me. I can’t be exactly sure of the names but in number 1 was a family called Martin. They were all boys, Jim, Jack and Alister. In number 2 I believe the family was called Cook. Number 5 was home to the Bakers with Joan, Gill and Wendy. I went to school with Gill and we always played together. In number 7 was our family. In number 9 were the Slades with Jim, Dorothy and Peter. In number 11 lived the Eldridges with John, June and David. Some other families that I remember were the Colbrooks, Meyers and behind us in the "Key Hole" lived several friends but the only names that come to mind are Peter and Paul Hope whom I do have photo’s of. One young boy from there was a particular friend because he had loads and loads of Rupert books. Unfortunately I remember the books better than I remember the boy!

My brothers and I earned our pocket money by going down to the river Medina where coke was made. Any young people reading this might not realise that the coke we got was some sort of coal product and not the drink of today. We had old baby prams and would have them filled with sacks of coke and then take them our customers. It was fun going down with the empty pram but oh my! was it ever hard work on the way home as it was all uphill. Still it earned us a few shillings pocket money which was spent on the Beano and Dandy comics. Does anyone remember Denis the Menace and Beryl the Peril?

My cousin Mike who lived in London spent most of his childhood holidays with us and we were nearly always on Gurnard beach. There used to be big white tents along the beach and some times my Auntie would rent one and then we felt like Queens and Kings. Mike still remembers the way I used to run over the stones to the sea, he never did manage to run as it hurt his feet. There was a raft anchored a little way from the shore to which we could swim and then sunbathe before going back to the shore. We could also rent floats from the 2 men in charge of the beach. I think one of them was called Bill. There was the putting green up behind the wooden huts where we spent a lot of time. The women’s changing huts were in a long strip and one of our favourite pastimes was to get into one of the huts that we knew had a hole in the wall just big enough for a child’s eye to look through. We were naturally very curious to see what grown women looked like! When I say we, I don’t mean my cousin Mike, he did the same but in the men’s side.

At the end of Love Lane was a laundry were we used to take some of our wash. I believe my mother may have worked there for a short time. Around the corner in Mill Hill Road was the Mill Hill Stores which was owned by the Tymans. My sister Audrey, (Audrey and Henry’s surname was Jacobsen) worked there behind the counter. Next to the shop was a big square house where I used to buy Oxo cubes for a farthing (£0.001 ed.) each. I had a penny (£0.004 ed.) to buy 4, but on the way home I nearly always ate one of them. Further down Mill Hill Road on the corner of Bellevue Road was a large scary looking house. We always thought it was haunted.

Down beside the cemetery in Newport road was a copse which was full of daffodils and bluebells. The sight of the blue and yellow carpet of flowers has stayed with me all my life. It is one of my greatest wishes to be able to get to the Island in spring and see a copse like it again. We used to pick some of the flowers and make bunches of them and then sell them to anyone who would give us a few pennies for them.

I used to love going on the train and I would often get on it at Mill Hill station just to go through the tunnel to Cowes. I would then walk home again. I remember most of the lines that used to be and find it a shame that they have nearly all vanished.

After school in the evenings, I used to work on the Cowes pontoon in Mrs. Taylor's souvenir shop. She also sold cigarettes, newspapers and sweets (yummie yummie).

I started riding at the age of about 11 with a young boy called Keith Gange who had a brother called Colin. Unfortunately Colin got killed near Parkhurst prison when riding a motor bike. Their two ponies were called Polly and Misty. I rode for many years with them and we had great times together. My next pony friend was Jenny Thomas who started her own riding school after she left school and to my knowledge still runs it now. From Jenny I went to Howard Yates who lived in Merstone. He had two ponies and as his father had loads of land we had a great time playing Cowboys and Indians.

When I left school I worked for Jean McAuslane who had her own riding school at Rookley. The stables were in the old brickworks. I visited the place last year but the land we had doesn’t exist anymore. Gone are the stables, the jumping field and all the other fields. These times with the ponies are very treasured memories of mine and if anyone reading this rode at Jean’s at the time I was there I would love to hear from them. My name when I was with the ponies was Kit Carson. I still have some show schedules of 1960. I also have some photos of the ponies and some of the children if anyone is interested.

I could go on for ever with my Island memories but I don’t want to be boring. I would really love to contact anyone who knew me not just on the Island but also on the mainland where I worked with horses until I left for Switzerland in 1971.