大象传媒

This story was sublitted to the People's War site by Alison Tebbutt of the Derby Action Desk Team on behalf of Margaret Tadman and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

One very special memory I should like to share, comes from my Dad's stay in Cape Town. The family with whom he was billeted, sent to us back home in England, every christmas from 1941 to the end of rationing a linen bag containing mixed dried fruit. Raisins, currants and candied peel-an absolute luxury in wartime England.
My mother, Mary Wilson, like so many women during the war, worked so hard bringing up a young family, caring for my grandmother who lived with us, managing an allotment-complete with chickens and working in a children's day nursery. Mum told me she had a baby container to put me in in case of a gas attack. As it had to be pumped manually, it was a constant worry until I was old enough to wear a gas mask.
Life did have a lighter side. One day mum was sat on the bus with my sister and myself, when a passenger said to her 'What lovely girls, where's their dad?' 'I only wish I knew' said my mum. 'The villain' said the passenger, putting money into my mother's hand and getting off the bus, before mum could explain that letters were censored!

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