SHE DIDN'T LIKE THE

New Zealand Listener, Volume 4, Issue 100, 23 May 1941, Page 14

SHE DIDN'T LIKE THE

NOISE When They Rolled Out

The Barrage But London is Worthwhile Even In Wartime ADIO artists who have been through the blitz in London or elsewhere in Great Britain have been. heard frequently of late and another will be coming to the microphone at 1YA on June 4. This time it will be Mrs. L. Moller, an Auckland pianist, who may be remembered better by some listeners as Phyllis Lewins. Mrs. Moller left London some little time ago, before the intensive bombing was resumed again, but she went through the black days of September, 1940. Most disturbing element of air attack, she thinks, is not the prospect of becoming a target oneself but the overwhelming noise, of which the continuous antiaircraft barrage is responsible for a good proportion. In the general din one could distinguish the boom of the heavy calibre guns behind the crackle of the lighter weapons and over them all the strident "ping" of another type of weapon. Generally speaking, this bedlam was let loose twice during the night when raiding was at its worst. The first waves of bombers usually came over between 10 and 11 p.m. and then there was a lull until just before dawn. Tubes and "Tin Heavens" As she was not living in the heart of London, Mrs. Moller saw little of conditions in the tubes, preferring to see raids out from the sanctuary of an Anderson shelter ("tin heaven") in the suburbs.

People living in the city itself and poorer people bombed from their own homes were those who used the tube stations most. Those living further out relied upon the surface shelters at street corners, or, most frequently, on the Anderson shelters in their back gardens. These latter shelters were not capable of withstanding anything more dangerous than splinters, but they really made one feel safe. Their principal disadvantage lay in their dampness, and she herself had

suffered from rheumatism through much sleeping in them. Yet once one was inside, well wrapped up in blankets and with a small lamp burning, the shelter was not nearly as chilly as might be imagined. Lack of sleep was a serious difficulty when full-scale raiding first began. "After the first week of it," she said, "everyone looked absolutely dead with fatigue, with darkened eyes and peaked faces, but it was surprising how quickly people picked up again once they got accustomed to the new order, and I should think that by now most are quite accustomed to getting their rest in small doses." New Zealanders in London Since Mrs, Moller’s husband is an officer on a British merchant ship she spent most of her time in London on her own. However, she was not left without friends and acquaintances, and among these were several New Zealanders studying music. One of them was Cara Hall, who herself arrived back in this country not very long ago. Another was the North Island pianist Colin Horsley. Indeed, it was coming in contact with these and other musical acquaintances that decided Mrs, Moller to resume her work as a pianist, which she had dropped for a time. Of Colin Horsley’s progress she had good news. He has gained two years extension of the scholarship under which he is studying at the Royal College of Music, and is doing unusually well. So far he has done little work in public, but Mrs Moller is under the impression that his teacher, Herbert Fryer, is saving him up for a special debut. The Great "Prom" Concert Nevertheless, Colin Horsley has already made one public appearance in very distinguished company and under most unusual circumstances. He was at the Queen’s Hall on September 7 of last year when the "Prom" concert was carried on into the small hours of the morning by the artists and members of the audience while the blitz raged outside. He was one of those who contributed solos, and afterwards he was (Continued on next page)

--- (Continued from previous page)

congratulated on his performance by Sir Adrian Boult, conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Long Voyage Home Mrs. Moller left England in stormy weather last November-so stormy that there was little danger of submarine attack. Some time before she sailed, her husband had also left England on another outward trip but, his ship being much slower than that on which Mrs. Moller travelled, she almost overtook him before he reached the African coast. As it was, she had the exasperating experience of seeing his vessel pass out of a West African port just as hers was moving in to berth. They exchanged radio messages, and when Mr. Moller got ashore at the next port down the

coast, they had the unusual luxury of a telephone conversation. Right down the West Coast of Africa she followed him, and at Capetown they managed to get one day together. All the way across the Indian Ocean she heard nothing of him, but they had a brief spell together again in an Australian port. Since then, she has not seen him at all and, like most other wives with men at sea, she doesn’t know where he is. Though she is happy enough to be away from the sizzling sound of bombs falling ("and they always sound as if they’re coming straight at you"), Mrs. Moller’s feeling about being back in New Zealand are mixed. She is pleased "in patches," as she "put it, to be back, but she thinks that even in wartime, England is worthwhile,