大象传媒

This story has been submitted to the People's War website by Liz Andrew of the Lancshomeguard on behalf of Nancy Sunter and added to the site with her permission.

I was seven years old on the outbreak of War and I can remember exactly when that was. I was sitting on a sofa in front of the kitchen table and my mother was taking the ashes out of the black leaded range. A funny feeling went through me.

My parents were farmers. Our farm was called Quay House Farm and was half way between Tosside and Slaidburn - it was three miles each way. I remember someone came from the Ministry and told Dad we had to grow wheat or oats. My Dad told him it wouldn't work but it didn't make any difference. The stuff grew but it would not ripen. It just stayed green and wouldn't turn golden.

I remember a bus load of prisoners coming from Skipton to work on the farm. They had to pull turnips, chop off their tops and put them on a trailer. They wore khaki clothing and came every day for a spell. We were surprised they were so ordinary.

I had an older stepbrother, Henry Waddington, in the Grenadier Guards.He served in North Africa and Italy. I remember my mother would send him food parcels full of home baking. She would make a pastry base and spread it with jam; then she'd sprinkle quaker oats on top. She'd make a big slab and cut it into four. We called it "Crunchy." Henry and the lads out there were really grateful for the parcels and they'd send us airmails saying how much they'd enjoyed the home baking.

There was a party when Henry came home but he could not settle and he moved to Cheltenham and started to farm there. I married and my husband and I farmed at Roughlee. Eventually our eldest son took over the farm and is still there today.

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