I was three when war was declared and can remember vividly seeing my Dad off at Chesterfield
Railway Station-packed with servicemen,my Mum had a fox fur around her neck.
We children thought this was how we lived,and I must add that Mum never ever put the
conflicts on my young shoulders.She was to be left for almost 7 years,having another
Daughter in 1943,when Dad came home on leave before he was sent to Austria,so it was a
case of get on with it or perish I suppose.
A rather unhappy time for me was when Mum went into a nursing home to have my sister,
this being the December of 1943. I was parked out to an Aunt and Uncle,who had three
children of their own.
A big parcel arrived at their home addressed to me,and I tore the brown paper off it,
and discovered all kinds of chocolate,and was from my Dad now in Venice.Now this Uncle was
my Mum's brother,he relieved me of the parcel saying we will save all of this for
Christmas,and I never saw it again.
However I forgave them,as I suppose I would have only made myself sick.
The war did dreadful things to people.My Dad returned to a now more independent wife,a
daughter who was now nine,and another daughter he had never seen,and she hated this man,
although we did have to kiss his photo at bedtime.Their marriage was never the same,
although they didn't separate,I often wished they had,the world had changed,as did they.
Lots of memories,some good some bad, but at least we are here to tell the tale,thank God.
My recollections of the Victory in Japan celebrations are a bit embarrassing!
There was to be dancing outside our Town Hall,so Mum me and my baby sister attended with
an Aunt and her daughter.
My Mum managed to buy a red,white and blue dress,I can see her now,dancing and singing as
were everyone,until the time came to go home as it was getting dark.
To get home we had taken a short cut over the fields as we called them then,when suddenly
from a hedge stepped out a young woman completely starkers,followed by a soldier,then both
disappeared back into the foliage.My Mum quickly pushed the pram and me on,but I had
recognised the young woman who lived in the next Street to us,and occasionally I see her in
Town,she will be in her mid seventies now,but every time I see her it takes me back to that
celebrations day.
Because my Dad was away,and food was in short supply,my paternal
Grandmother Lily kept a watch on us,and she being she would give us her last penny.
We had some very distant relations in Canada,who in turn sent her the occasional food parcel,
of which she passed on to us.
One parcel she gave to us contained all the usual stuff like dried milk,powdered egg,and
some very funny looking little pouches that appeared to hold tea,so me and Mum went to work
with a pair of scissors each and set about cutting these little pouches open,and emptied
same into our tea caddy!!!!
It wasn't until years later that I realised that the little pouches were in fact tea bags !!!!!
and to be honest the tea was horrible,so much so that to this day I have never liked a cuppa tea,
as everyone around me does.
Submitted to this site by Maureen Cummings.
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