Do You Believe In Happy Endings?

Part 13

One summers day in 1944 while I was playing out with a friend and messing about in this hedge, suddenly there was this strange noise and a darkening of the sky; looking up my jaw dropped wide open in disbelief as to what I saw. The sky was absolutely carpeted with aircraft of every type, it was simply amazing, there were other formations and squadrons joining in from every direction this went on for some time; there were literally thousands of American and British planes droning their way overhead. We two kids where ecstatic we were jumping up and down like over animated jack-in-the boxes, as we ran into the village all the other kids and their parents were out and acting excitedly we knew that this was it. I had never seen anything like this before nor am I ever likely to see anything like it again, it was one of those rare but major things that happen in life and I was there to witness it.Of course everyone knows the outcome of this significant event, after the next couple of days we took it for granted that we were winning the war even though it was far from over, Visiting the cinema over the next year made us realise just what had been happening in Europe, when the death camps where librated we got the picture of what had really been happening; all those poor unfortunate people that had died and suffered there. How anyone could do that to another person is beyond belief, I myself was just a child and it was a shock to my system; even now when I see pictures of the atrocities that were committed it turns my stomach. Now in the meantime Britain was being bombarded with V 1’s and V 2’s this was in the south of the country, we would go to the cinema and see launchings of these jet and rocket propelled bombs. Of course we would be shown the rockets exploding on the launch site, which made everyone in the audience shout with glee. Things were starting to change and the feeling was that war was finally going to be over soon, The family was starting make trips back to our home town a lot now, it was just a matter of time before we finally did, my father had escaped from an Italian prisoner of war camp into Switzerland a year before the end of the war, and on the 27th of October 1944 my father came home to flags and decorations after being repatriated from Switzerland. For this time at least it seemed that life was going to have a happy ending, he was on leave until the New Year after which he had to rejoin his regiment. It was nine months later that he was demobbed from the army with many others.

Stretching Things a Bit

Part 12.

There were always shortages of something or other in the Second World War; people would queue for almost anything from saccharin’s to knickers elastic this being due to rubber being needed for tyres and war machines. Knicker elastic was a thing that was highly prized by our women folk in those war years, when stores would get it in it was rationed to two yards per person and was a vital part of the countries defences. I remember on a couple of occasions young women coming to grief because of this most vital commodity, usually a safety pin was all that kept disaster at bay. One time while we were sitting in a bus in Bishop Auckland’s market square, this young woman’s worst nightmare happened in front for all to see; as she ran for the bus something snapped. My aunt who was a pretty young woman herself ran off the bus to help, unfortunately this just made things worse and attracted more attention than necessary, in the end this young girl got on the bus in tears and much to the men’s amusement. There was another time when this other young woman did almost the same, except she was more agile by reaching down in mid stride and scooping them up into her hand bag without a bat of the eyelid. This sort of thing was going on all over the country by reports from other people; it just goes to show this countries defences were stretched to breaking point.In the shops and furniture stores things would have a utility sign on them this was like two pie charts with a number 4 in the middle, things were not to well made mainly due to shortages; what I mean is there were no frills or good design features. My mother was looking at some furniture in one shop when she opened a draw it was only cardboard in the bottom, which wouldn’t have been able to hold anything without it falling through.Cigarettes were always scarce especially the favourite brands like Woodbines , Capstan and Players, shops would keep them for their regular costumers. The Black-market was a thriving business during the war and everyone made use of it if they could, there were the typical Spivs just like Walker on Dad‘s Army who could seem to get anything within reason. That brings me to our local Dad’s Army often when out usually at weekends we would run into them doing their exercises, it wasn’t much different to the television series and you could almost see the same characters. We would be told to clear off by the local Captain Mainwaring and his bunch of desperados; these were also local shopkeepers of the village and others from the brickworks.Some times the local church hall would have a magic lantern show, something like Uncle Tom’s Cabin or some biblical theme all the kids would pile in just for somewhere to go. Other times they would put a pantomime like Aladdin or some such thing, at Christmas time there would be a nativity play.

Wartime Printed Material

A Boys World And Home Cooking

Part 11.

In this new home near Bishop Auckland where I lived during the war, this village carried on with the things it did pretty much the same as it did before hostilities; it was a sleepy little place where everyone new each other. The village in the past had been a place of drift mines and brick works, strange how this industry seemed almost swallowed up with all the greenery; it wasn’t neat and tidy but it was unobtrusive. The brick works were behind our cottages and just continued making bricks, even in wartime bricks are needed. The drift mines had been re-opened because they needed the coal for the war effort, the pit ponies were housed in this old building at the end of our little street of houses; we kids used to meet them on the way back from the mine and help bed them down.In the undergrowth almost hidden by greenery was the remains of an old charcoal burning industry, it looked like some lost civilisation that had been swallowed up by the jungle of grass and trees; these kilns were dome shaped like Eskimos igloos. We would excavate these and make them into dens where we would roast potatoes in a fire, melt led to make lead shapes in the sand moulds we would fashion. This together with the river nearby and all the woodlands would by the setting for a boys adventure playground, if we weren’t fishing in the river for minnows and sticklebacks; we would be building rafts from the pit props that were in piles near by.I would come home from school I think it would be Tuesday, and my Nana would be ironing on the living room table with the radio playing; Victor Sylvester would be playing his requests in the background. I rather liked this radio program together with the pleasant atmosphere of that warm dry ironing feeling, remember the irons were heated on the open fire there was a little stand for them to heat up; there was also a stand for the kettle but usually the kettle just rested on the coals. Nana always seemed happy while she was doing this and listening to the radio, other music on the radio would be typical things like you would hear now about the war; Vera Lynn and all those war time favourites also Glen Miller and other American bands. I have never gotten those wartime songs out of my system, that was my era and when I hear them now they bring back pleasant memories. Strange as it may sound the three years I spent in that village would turn out to be the happiest time that I can remember, after my earlier start in life being so miserable and poverty stricken. However it was not to last when the war finally came to an end and those equally as hard and austere times came back, but for the time being we could all at least find a little happiness.At weekends that is on a Sunday we would have our Sunday dinner but I am not quite sure now if it was every Sunday, we would fare a little better than some folks that had less ration books than we; I believe the meat ration could be saved up so you could have one good dinner every so often. However come Sunday there was always home cooking we’d have apple tarts, bilberry tarts, jam tarts, and ham and egg tart, there was only one egg and a few thin rashers of bacon in the tart though.

Little Things Mean a Lot

Part 10
Some of the things I remember about the Second World War are that you would make do with almost anything; the womenfolk would pass round recipes to make meals and tasty dishes from scraps that they had saved. In the summertime with us living in the country we would go picking blackberries to make blackberry pies, or any other berry that was in season; the only thing missing was sugar. My grandmother’s brother was an inspector of some sort on the river Tyne, and he used to get sugar from contacts on the ships which would help out, however she didn’t get to see him that often; but it was always helpful and went along way in those hard times. What I remember about going to the little co-op store in the village was that sugar was sold loose in dark blue thick paper bags, butter was from a wooden barrel that had to be broken open on the counter before being cut bit by bit onto a piece of grease proof paper. Sometimes Margarine was like this also, but it usually came in the usual rectangular paper block just like today’s margarine; except it was only two ounce. This had to be cut with a sharp knife and if it was not cut straight there would be trouble from the customer, this would be weighed and bits added until everything was to satisfaction. We seemed to do a lot of train journeys during the war either going back to see if grandmothers house was O K or to visit my two brothers, they lived on a farm near Aspatra past Carlisle. I liked all the little stations we passed through, they were always well kept with their little bits of garden and hanging baskets with their colourful flowers; they certainly took a pride in them. Most of the times the steam trains would be packed with soldiers either going on leave or coming back from leave, there was an army camp near to out village; the corridors of the train would be packed with kitbags rifles and haversacks. My young cousin and I used to hang out the windows with our mothers hanging onto our clothes, we would both get covered in soot and smoke and had to have a good wash or bath when we got home. My grandmother would usually bath us, sometimes she would just wash my hair in the tin bath and I would scream blue murder whilst she was half drowning me, I used to hate this treatment and it took awhile for me to calm down. After this inhuman treatment when we were all dried and sparkling we’d get a cuddle a slice of jam and bread and a glass of milk, we would be then be put to bed. I used to suffer from terrible nightmares as a child and I would be glad to wake up in the morning; however my favourite radio program was Valentine Dials Appointment with Fear; I didn’t have the sense to see that could be the cause.

The Yanks Are Here

Part 9

The one thing that was always firmly in my mind as a child was that we were going to win the war because we were the goodies, and they the Nazis were the baddies, my farther was going to come home from the prisoner of war camp and things were going to get better. Well all of this did happen except for things getting better, when we would go the cinema and watched the news and in spite of the propaganda we were fed; I couldn’t help but think we were getting the worst end of the argument. Listening to Vera Lynn sing all those wartime songs like “There’ll Be Bluebirds Over The White Cliffs O Dover”, it made me think of a time after the war when things would be so much better because we were having it so hard at that time. I thought that because people were putting up with so much hardship and shortages, that when the war ended all of the spirit of the time would see this country just get better and better. However I was wrong people just seemed to gradually turn into a different species of human, not straight away but over a period of time right up to the present. One of the songs Vera Lynn sang was “When The Lights Go On Again All Over The World”, this made me think peace an harmony were going to reign forever; young simple minds eh. There was always aircraft in the skies overhead, mostly fighter planes and most probably going to intercept the enemy or some other task that was needed; every boy wanted to be in the R A F and flying Spitfires or Hurricanes. It wasn’t until towards the end of the war that we saw bombers flying in groups or squadrons, although they did fly in smaller numbers in day time they mostly flew at night.When the Americans came into the war they flew in daylight with there Flying Fortresses, I had a model made for me which I got on Christmas that year. Whatever people might say about the Americans we were glad to see them and have them on our side, they certainly gave us more confidence to see the war through to the end. I as a child in those war years I liked everything about the Americans, I liked their uniforms their easy going manner their friendliness, and so did the young women which certainly led to resentment from the men in this country. The Americans seemed to have pots of money whereas our soldiers had very little, the Yanks were a novelty to the women and there was a shortage of men folk here; the majority of our men were at war in other parts of the world. What women would do for a pair of fully fashioned silk stockings or nylons and a packet of Pall Mall cigarettes, their morals being questionable? As I have said earlier the gossip among women at that time was who was carrying on with who, yes a lot of it went on then I used to listen to my Grandmother talking with her friends and neighbours, I would be playing with a toy or something on the floor; then there would come “Quiet ears is listening” meaning me of course.

Hygiene

Part 8
What I remember of my childhood and the sanitation of that time was that it was virtually non existent; the old terraced houses that we lived in had an outside shared toilet, which was non to clean. Toilet paper was unheard of for the lower classes, newspaper was the only thing we had; and sometimes not even that, there was no hot running water you would have had to boil a kettle for that; which people didn’t do. I remember that almost all the children of that time were pretty dirty; they even got put to bed in all their dirt, the saying was it’ll all come off on the sheets. Usually once a week it was bath night and all the kids in a family would be bathed in an old tin bath that hung outside on a nail in the yard; usually in the same water. Sometimes on wash days you would be put in the wooden poss tub as it was called, with the rest of the washing, I remember a cousin of mine lived opposite and we used to look over the rim of the tub while he sloshed around amongst the washing. Children in those days used to have a lot of head lice, just like children today, and a small tooth comb was a standard item then in all households; some kids used to have ring worm and a lot of us used to get worms, which meant going to the chemist to get a worm cake. Later when we moved to that country mining village we had midden toilets where you emptied your ash and household waste, sometimes you would be sitting there when the trap door opened; and the midden man would start to shovel your fresh deposit in to his cart. Rats where always around and people used to put down poison to try to kill them but to no avail, there was a man who had a Jack Russell he often came round and killed a few rats; his little dog was like lightning. It often makes me wonder how we managed without all the mod-cons we have today, kitchen roll, toilet roll, cling film, foil, and every thing we have at our disposal now. Soap was on the ration and it did not last long so we never bought toilet soap, we used to buy a block of Fairy soap which went a lot further we use to slice it into toilet size bars to wash with, Carbolic or Lifebuoy soap was preferred by some people; I liked the smell and you felt really clean after washing.I can’t remember now if you could get soap powder, I can’t remember seeing any I think it was all done by soap and scrubbing, Oxydol was the powder before the war but my grandmother used a blue dolly to get the clothes white. Sunlight soap was I remember the preferred washing soap by the women, but I never liked the smell, when we came out of the bath my young cousin and I would be all gleaming and clean until the next day when we would be doing what kids do best; getting dirty. There used to be another soap which wasn’t rationed it was grey coloured, it was called Lava soap but that was for washing floors, people did a lot of that then, they would always holystone their doorstep.Women in those times used to sweep the front of their pavement and gutter, this was usually an excuse to meet and gossip, there would be a group of them brush in hand talking about all the scandal that they new of.

Peas-Pudding Beetroot and Clippy Mats

Part 7
As I was saying in my last article that there was not a lot of litter on the streets not like there is today, the reason being that there was not much pre-packed foods like there is now, if you went to a shop for say a quarter pound of biscuits they would be in a square biscuit tin, the shopkeeper would pick them out and put them in a plain white paper bag. Most loose things were sold like this, there were some pre-packed foods but ordinary folk didn’t buy that because it was more expensive. My grandmother used to buy things like dried peas, lentils prunes dried apple rings and stuff like that; all loose. Although there was tinned stuff on the shelves I can’t remember the family buying that kind of thing other than people that could afford it, I can never remember having a tin of beans we just did not have that sort of thing. Sugar was always in short supply like everything else, in the winter time the butter never went very far due to the cold; it didn’t spread very well. One or two of the things my grandmother used to make was a big enamel dish of peas pudding and another dish of sliced beetroot, this would last for a while we would have beetroot and peas pudding sandwiches; but she would also share it with the neighbours. The neighbours would take turns in making things and sharing, people were always passing on recipes that the Food Ministry would put out together with magazines like the Picture Post or some other magazine.Another thing that the neighbours did in the winter time was to get together with a wooden frame and make a clippie mat, any thing that was past all hope of wearing was cut into strips and saved up for this occasion. When the time came somebody would have an old burlap sack that would be stretched on the frame, ready for the progging and poking with the strips of material. There then followed all the gossip about various people in the village, I used to listen to all this talk about who was carrying on with who while their husbands where at war fighting for their country. When the mat was finished it would be trimmed and placed in front of the fire place for us kids to sprawl out on.

Any Old Iron

Part 6.
One of the things that you would notice before and during the war and then shortly after, that the streets were not so full of litter and rubbish as you see now. What you would see was lots of cigarette buts or fag ends as we here used to call them, together with horse manure, heaps of that. Now it did not stay there very long as people were keen to get this for their gardens and allotments, sometimes it was like some athletic event where people used to be making a mad dash as to who could get there first with their bucket and shovel, even though there always seemed to be plenty to go round it was like gold to some folk. Maybe that’s were the saying came from where there’s muck there’s money, people old men in particular used to take a great pride in their gardens and their little huts used to be like quaint little cottages inside. Most of these allotments now have vanished as councils have taken them to build houses, or other developments. All the streets then were cobbled stones or most of them were, and a lot of the traffic was still horse drawn like the coalman, the milkman, fish sellers although there was still fishwives as we called them pushing hand carts or rollies as they were once called. Beer was always delivered by Dray horses, and there were still street sellers like the Vinegar man the knife sharpener these people used to push their specialised carts by hand. There was also the Ringtons tea man, he has not long been finished using the horse drawn carriage, and they were always nicely kept. There was a man who used to get into the market square with a little stall which ingeniously opened up like a soft drinks bar, it was very ornate, pale green in colour with little wooden barrels and he sold still soft drinks. Often outside our house the Grange laundry van used to park, it was white with a picture of a woman crossing stepping stones in a river; she carried a laundry basket on her head. A t that time there was a song which was called “You Made Me Love You” then went onto say I didn’t want to do it I didn’t want to do it, I thought in my young mind that this woman on the side of the laundry van, who was being forced to love someone. I wondered why no one would try to help this poor woman, but that’s what I thought at the time; young minds eh. I would just like to add that this laundry van was just like Jack Jones the butchers on Dads Army; only it was white.The dockyards used to be close to our houses and you could hear them riveting all night, in the morning the buzzer or whistle would go for the men to start their day shift; the docks were what German aircraft were aiming for.Usually in the morning after the air raids all the kids would go yelling like little Indians to a place that had been bombed, we were all looking for souvenirs bits of incendiary bombs shrapnel barrage balloon skin and spent tracer bullets. My two older brothers had quite a collection that was very heavy. So they used to put me in this old box on wheels with this treasure trove of mangled metal bomb flights and tracer bullets.

Those Miserable Happy Times

Part 5.

When we moved to our new home in the County Durham countryside which lay between Bishop Auckland and Willington, I had to start school for the first time it was a nice clean modern building for that time, and the kids in the school were quite tidy looking compared to back home where I came from.I did eventfully settle in there and become just like one of the locals, I remember all we boys used to draw and paint pictures of the war, mostly aircraft pictures, Spitfires and Hurricanes seemed to be the favourites of all of us. Every boy wanted to be a Spitfire pilot all the girls wanted to nurses, their pictures were scenes like nurse tending the wounded, or just household scenes helping their mothers. Whereas we would paint pictures of dogfights with German planes going down in flames or bombers drop bombs on Berlin, usually with the caption “Bombs over Berlin”. Often when we went to town to see some war picture, something like Errol Flynn and his crew being shot down over Germany in a Lancaster Bomber then escaping back to England; we each would all adopt one of the characters rolls and re-enact the whole picture. Well boys will be boys so the saying goes and we were no exception, on the school walls we used to have pictures of double the size of A3 posters, there would be a story on one side and a coloured picture on the other side. The pictures used to be scenes of things like the Sea Side, Harvest time or Christmas time, I always liked harvest time the summer months were peaceful leading up to the threshing of the wheat, there was a farm right next to the school we kids liked to watch the threshing. We would climb onto the fence and watch the farm hands using their pitchforks to pitch the wheat into the machine, there were always a couple of Jack Russell’s to catch the rats as they scurried out of the haystacks, we little ghouls used to shout with glee when they caught the rats and flicked them up in the air. Sometimes one of the rats would reach the fence and run vertically up sending us all scurrying off in all directions, but the main bit I liked was the reaping, those golden coloured fields and the warm evenings, that gold coloured sun beginning to descend in the sky; it was idyllic. Usually in the darker nights over in the distance towards Middlesbrough, the sky used to light up with the explosions and searchlights, we could always tell when there was a raid on. An odd time we would hear that some village was going to get oranges in and we would catch the bus and stand in a queue, much to the annoyance of the locals, you would only be entitled to one per ration book. In the village where I lived this little shop come post office got some candy rock in, it was a little bit thicker than a pencil and was only available on children’s ration books, it was two pennies a stick, highway robbery. That was the only time I saw sweets other than Christmas day, although I’ve been told since sweets were available in other parts of the country, more so in the South of England.

Don't you know there's a war on

Part 4
At the time that we lived in this little mining village it turned me into a country loving person I have never been settled in the town since, I know that this is the opposite for some people but I believe that your mind is shaped and set at an early age, that’s what makes us what we are.
One of the pleasures was going into Bishop Auckland on a Saturday by bus; it used to run every two hours from where we lived, if I was with my school friends we would either go to the Cinema or Theatre to watch live acts. Other times I would be with the family whilst they did the shopping there, if there was a queue you’d always ask what they were queuing for, some people that were standing in the queue didn’t know but they were standing there anyway. As I mentioned earlier we would look for a meal somewhere, I remember the co-op restaurant served a standard meal of one fat red sausage with mashed potato and gravy; I quite liked the sausage in spite of its strange colour. Another time we would go to a pie peas a potato cafes which was rather oldie worldie, there was quite a lot of old buildings like that in Bishop Auckland; but now have sadly vanished. The old bus that took us there was just about clapped out as it chugged and strained up the hills, after all as the saying went at that time; “Don’t You Know There’s A War On”. My Grandmother was a rather old fashioned and used to take charge of the family, her two daughters although married had to obey her command together with us children. Sometimes if I was not behaving as she thought I should in other Peoples Company she would fix me with this glaring hypnotic stare which made me hang my head. However she was my Nana and I loved her more than my mother I think, she would look after my cousin and me while they were at work in the munitions factory in Spennymoor. My mother and aunt used to make shell cases for small arms and a canon, which wasn’t a bad job, compared to another factory nearby which made explosives and was always blowing up; supposedly from sabotage. In the summertime we would walk to Bishop Auckland on a nice summer evening, it was nice country scenery along the meandering back road, so peaceful and serene with the birds singing in the hedgerows; sometimes you wouldn’t know there was a war on.

Learning to put up with war

Before my two brothers were evacuated my father had come back from Dunkirk, I think it was after that he spent some time in Iraq before going to North Africa where he was captured by the Germans but handed over to the Italians. First he was reported missing which was a terrible shock to my mother and family, that was the 21st of June 1942, later the 15th of august he was reported captured.
At this time my mother aunt, grandmother, cousin and myself were in a little mining village in Co Durham, things started to get a little better to what I had been used to previously. Things were rationed but in truth the merger rations were better than what we had been used to, and because there was five ration books; thing went a little further than say someone living on their own,
People learned to adjust for shortages because we had not had it so good in the past, I think people today would certainly find it harder if it ever came to that again. This mining village being in the country and on the river with lots of woods was the ideal playground for a boy; although it was wartime it was a happier time than when I lived in the town with all the poverty that we had to suffer. We used to go back occasionally to check on grandmother’s house which she kept up in the town, we often got caught up in air raids from time to time.
I remember standing in queues quite a lot for various things that were in short supply; it was amazing how people managed to make things go so far.
Eggs were in short supply some weeks there would be one to a book that’s a ration book, some weeks none and some just on children’s books, things were scarce and people had to make do and mend, clothes were rationed. The food ministry was always giving out recipes; it was something like how to make something from almost nothing, everyone when visiting the local town would be looking for cafes and restaurants to help supplement their diet. Here in the North of England before the war there was pies peas and potatoes eating places set up to help out of work people get a cheap meal., these place caught on I still remember them with a great deal of fondness.
What I remember during the war was the advertisements and propaganda we used to get on the radio cinema and newspapers, no television in those days. Potato Pete used to be one of my favourites he was a potato head with trousers telling everyone to eat more potato’s, didn’t need much telling we’d eat anything then.
Another character was the squander bug covered in swastikas telling people not to waste anything. Later when the Americans came into the war we were introduced to “Spam and dried Egg”. The dried egg came in tins but we always got it in waxed paper cartons, I used to love this you do all kinds of things with it; mixed with milk you could fry it scramble it and bake with it.

Thinking Back

Part 2
Going back to my time before the war when I was just a small child, we lived in a two roomed downstairs flat with a gas light, I remember my mother sending me to buy a gas mantle from the corner shop across the road; the mantle was a china clay like mesh cover they used to burn out and disintegrate. These mantles were two or three pence, when they were new they burned with a clean light, but then got more yellowed as they aged, we also had a gas ring to boil the kettle on this used to rest on the floor. However most of the cooking was done on the coal fire and oven as we couldn’t afford the penny for the meter sometimes. The home made bread used to smell and taste really good, the most baked kind of bread was called stotty cake; this was pronounced stotty k-yeck a Geordie favourite. It seems to be dying out now as it doesn’t bake so well in modern ovens, the other name for it was oven bottoms.
On occasions when my mother could afford some meat we would have pie crust, this was made in a square roast tin with mostly black pudding stewing steak, onions and gravy with a cup in the middle to support the sheet of pastry laid on top. This was more of a rare occasion as I’ve said before we never had much in those days, I remember being covered in scabs as were other kids at that time; it was usually down to malnutrition a lack of vitamins; a lot of children suffered from it then.
At that time OXO’s used to come in a tiny individual box and cost one penny each, that mixed with hot water and a slice of bread was a meal for us hungry kids. Another thing was at times you could get a pile of broken kippers for coppers really, it didn’t matter they tasted the same as whole ones.
When the war started and my father went off to his regiment, we some times used to go to the Cinema with my mother she was a bit better off financially with my father being in the army. Sometimes we would have to come out in the middle of the picture because of an air raid, and rush to this underground shelter, it was staffed with nurses policemen and air raid wardens. I remember being cradled in the arms of these two nurses who were taking turns nursing me; I was always a bit of a sleepy-head and could fall asleep on the cold lino floor.
One night we were called out of the cinema because this Barrage balloon had been hanging limp all day, I think it must have been holed in the air raid the night before; they couldn’t reel it in and was lying across the houses.
It eventually came down over the doorway of this pub and looked just like a big silver elephant, they always reminded me of elephants when they were moored around the town.

How It Was

Part 1
Looking about me and seeing the lifestyle that people seem to enjoy today, even though the vast majority have rarely known hardship or what it is to be poor and hungry. I often think how modern day folk would cope if their lifestyle was suddenly to change for the worse. Some people, if not a sizable portion of the population, think that being hungry is an hour or two gaps between meals; or when they had their last big Mac.
I was born in the mid thirties at the time of the depression, I was at that time the youngest in the family with my two older brothers Ronnie and Bobby, we were very poor but then so were many others. My father had been out of work for nine years and had to try to find ways to feed a hungry family, you see there wasn’t the system we have today where anybody can claim almost anything whether they have contributed or not. Sometimes my father would be out all night fishing with some friends who had an old boat; the North Sea then still had quite a lot of fish for the taking. Had it not been for my father catching fish we would surly have been a lot worse off, most people today could not understand the poverty and hardship that we in this country had to endure, especially in the North East of England. My father was an excellent artist just one of the many things that he could do, he would draw paint and make pictures for just coppers; it all helped to put bread on the table.
Just before the second world war he joined the Territorial Army to get a bit extra cash, however it was not long after that he was called up for war, I remember that Christmas we had nothing my mother couldn’t afford anything for us children.
When the air raids started it was hell with incendiary and explosive bombs raining down on us; whistling bombs we used to call them as they made this terrible whistling noise together with the anti-air craft guns firing. The anti-air craft guns made frightening noises and shrapnel used to be falling from the sky; you could hear it hit the roofs and bounce of the ground and walls. One night my mother went to the door to look out, one of my aunts shouted for her to come in and just as she was closing the door a huge lump of shrapnel stuck in the door, my mother went very pale.
Some times the family used to shelter under the kitchen table as was recommended early on, the screams from my cousins just young girls and the rest of us was horrific, my cousins would wet themselves and we would all be sitting in pools of urine on the cold lino floor.
Later as the war progressed my two older brothers were evacuated, my mother and I stayed to the autumn 1941 when we moved to the country with an aunt grandmother and young cousin.