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.
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.
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