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After living for a short while at two unsatisfactory addresses as an evacuee from my suburban Birmingham home, along with my mother and three years younger brother, Bob, my father joined us to live at Insetton Lodge. This was 1940 and life in Birmingham during the Second World War was becoming frightening and dangerous.

My memories of the town of Bromsgrove itself are slight…I can only rely on my own recollections.

On one occasion when shopping in Bromsgrove with my mother I noticed some grapes in a greengrocer’s shop, a very rare fruit to see in wartime. I wanted my mother to ask how much they were but she declined, saying they would be bound to be far too expansive. Although I was a shy timid child I went into the shop myself and enquired the price. I remember my sense of shock at being told that they were £1 a pound (454gms), which was a lot of money in days when farthings were still used.

In spite of the limited facilities at Insetton Lodge, Mother bottled many kilner jars of fruit including plums and damsons, some of which were given to relatives and friends. I can recall her irritation if the seals on the jars didn’t work properly. AS a child I was unaware of the restrictions of rationing but I can remember Mother’s consternation when our cat, ‘Whiskers’ stole out meat ration on one occasion.

Mother considered it unpatriotic to buy ‘on the black market’ but sometimes Bob and I were sent to a nearby farm for eggs. To get there we had to pass another farm where the dogs barked loudly anf frighteningly. We ran to get pat quickly, which made the dogs bark even more. Reaching the farm where we bought eggs a small aggressive cockerel was a further cause of fear. Another local farmer sold us milk straight from the cow and I developed a ‘T.B. gland’ in my neck.

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