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This story was submitted to the ´óÏó´«Ã½ People’s War site by Wymondham Learning Centre on behalf of the author who fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

Home life was one of make do and mend. Survival was all. My mother coped as best she could but rations were minimal, although she somehow persuaded the butcher to let her have, say, four lamb chops instead of the regulation two (shades of Dad’s Army).

We were offered ‘Snoek’ (what on earth was that?). Whale meat, which was awful and rissoles of indeterminate pedigree. Somehow we kept going and rarely went hungry.

Porridge in the morning, because of the low sugar ration, would be sweetened with glucose powder. Good for energy but not very effective as a sugar substitute.
We kept hens and were therefore able to get a good supply of eggs and, sometimes, when we needed a Sunday lunch, we killed one of the older birds (usually my job).

In all that time, even in the darkest days, people remained remarkably optimistic.

There was never mention of defeat and there was always a feeling in the air that one day it would all come to an end and that victory would prevail.

I joined the army in 1944, but that’s another story entirely.

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