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Cathy’s Story by Mrs Cathy Jones (nee Haseler)

Although my parents had a quiet time in the War, they told me little about their lives then. They were living in a tiny village in Northamptonshire, just outside Peterborough. They grew a lot of fruit and vegetables, made jams and preserves, went blackberrying and generally tried to eke out their war-time rations. Sometimes Mrs Graham, the ‘Lady of the Manor’ would give them pheasants to help. My godmother who lived in the same village , had a pump in her garden. Her job if anyone suffered from gas poisoning was to dunk them under this pump! There were a few fold she would liked to have dunked but she never got the chance.

The rectory had a very fine pair of wrought-iron gates. They had to go — they were taken for the war effort.

My father joined up with the Home Guard but felt it was all a bit of a waste of time.

At first when the sirens went, my parents would go down into the Rectory cellar but after a while, they just didn’t bother. No bombs ever fell close to their village, as far as I know.

However, one night they heard a huge noise with wave upon wave of bombers flying over the house. They realised that this was something different and important and they often told me about that night, so it had obviously made a big impression on their memories. It was the night that Coventry was bombed.

My father’s sister, Joyce, spent her war down in Kent on a Herb Farm. Being a Quaker, she chose to produce herbs to alleviate suffering rather than for their mere non-medical uses

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Sue Russell of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ on behalf of Mrs C Jones and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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