- Contributed by听
- keenJasmine
- People in story:听
- Sheila Pollard,Michael King,Maud King, Maureen King, George Speed.
- Location of story:听
- Hackney, East London.
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A8765931
- Contributed on:听
- 23 January 2006
I lived in a very old house in Hackney, East London with my mother Maud King, sister Maureen King and brother Michael King. My grandmother Nan Nolan lived on the middle floor. My mother was always very afraid of a German Invasion and kept a brown jar in the cupboard which I later learned contained tablets. We were always told not to go near the jar. Her view was that in such an event we would all die togther. My grandmother was not very happy with this plan sayig that it is only God who gives and takes life.
This particular day there was a loud crashing knock on the door which was opened by my mother. She rushed down the stairs shouting "The Germans are here" There was a large man standing at the door with boots, a tin hat and goggles on. My mother took us children into the corner and was frantically trying to open the brown jar. Amid all the chaos the man was saying "Maud, its me, brother George" We eventually realised that it was my uncle George calling in for a cup of tea!
2.Christmas memories.
My natural dad died at the age of 27years of age from consumption. We lived in a house rented from the local Rabbi. My mother had a man friend who used to call, but did not live with us. He helped out financially occasionally and my mother had more children by him . My mother had a very hard life and tolerated this arrangement as she was afraid of becoming totally destitute. She did three cleaning jobs to try and make ends meet. She had a sewing machine which was often in the pawnbrokers.
My older brothers were in the Army and three of us were still at school. My mother was very loving towards her children, particularly me as I shared her bed. We got plenty of cuddles and kisses
I remember our worst Christmas as we had bread and jam for dinner and burned old shoes on the fire to keep warm. We laughed when the shoes curled up in the flames. I do not recall feeling deprived, as our world was alright as long as our loving mum was with us.
She died at the age of seventy two and I still miss her to this day.
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