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Dad was all for finding ways of supplementing our poor ration diet and took on an allotment that had just come on offer by the council. It took a bit of a walk to get to it, having to carry tools that one needed. Eventually, Dad, with his woodworking skills, built a wooden wheelbarrow. It took all my strength to push it, it being so heavy and as we had to wheel it up hill when going home one was reluctant to carry too much.
One season, we had an abundance of tomatoes and (baked) beans. Fine – but there were very few ways one could serve these and the beans never tasted like the baked beans we know today. We did at least have a plentiful supply of potatoes and greens, pleasing my mother who had the unenvious task of queuing at the shops for most things. I think the mothers of families had the hardest task during the war in trying to provide varied types of meals from the meagre amount of rations we were allowed. It was an impossible strain for them, more so for those who also had to work and still cook for the family when they arrived home.

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