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Doodle-bugs: We had an awful lot of doodle-bugs during my time; in fact, my wife — who was in the Land Army — was based on a farm near Potters Bar in North West London. She used to come home nearly every week, and it would normally be on a Wednesday, when she had a half-day. It seemed that every time she came home within a mile radius of her home address there would be a doodle-bug. It got round to my Father-in-law, so he decide to call her ‘Doody’ - an abbreviation of Doodle-bug. I still call her ‘Dood’ now.

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Becky Barugh of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Bill Kendall and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

See more of Bill's stories:

• A White-Faced Inspector
• Chipolatas and Chips
• Given a bit of cheek
• High-Tailed it home
• How it all began
• I was BKFJ434
• ’Let him go and let him tarry’
• In a split second timing
• Oranges and Lemons
• Rotten Bananas
• Waste not, Want not
• It was coming straight for me
• Using more of my nine lives
• Tiny and Shiny
• Free post
• Time just came and went
• No. 1 London

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