大象传媒

Our area, Cumbria, was on the flight path for Belfast and Glasgow, so an early memory is the ominous drone of many bombers overhead. Being rushed downstairs in someones arms, presumably to the cellar and presumably during Maryport's only air attack. Because one plane,apparently lost or in difficulty, saw a chink of light below and dropped his bombs across the town. A school I should have gone to was destroyed. We had various teenage evacuees from the North East staying with us. It was said that a family evacuated from Newcastle was killed in this lone attack.
There was an old bell from the one-time servants quarters which I liked to ring. This must have got on the evacuees nerves as they told me Hitler would come.
All windows had to have means of blackout. No light must be visible from the outside. Patrolling air-raid wardens ensured this. My Mother was fined when an evacuee let a light show. I don't remember having a night light in early years and slept three stories up from the living quarters. It was a scary house. There were no street lights and no road signs in case of spies. What cars there were had heavily dimmed lights. Coal fires were normal. Chimneys sometimes caught fire so the fire brigade, in fact everybody, had to be on the ball. Petrol was very limited, so some cars which had been adapted had gas cannisters on trailers or on the roof.
Steam locomotive furnaces could not be blacked out and planes used to follow them to goods marshalling yards. We used trains quite a lot in those years.
All windows were criss crossed with tape to reduce shattering.
We all had gas masks, fortunately gas was never used. Mine was something of a toy.
Metal railings and gates were stripped from most houses to make tanks and aircraft. Ours escaped as people could have fallen to the basement area.
Each of us had a ration book and coupons, or points, for clothing. All clothing bore a "Utility" mark - I don't know why.
We looked forward to food parcels from relatives in Canada. They contained luxuries like salmon and also American comics.
There was only one kind of bread - the 'National' loaf, which was a rather dirty white. Also only one kind of chocolate -'blended' (dark and milk).
Eggs either came in packets of powder or preserved in a fluid called isinglass. You could get milk as powder in tins, 'National Dried Milk'.
As kids we were dosed with malt, cod liver oil and orange juice each day to supplement a fairly meagre diet.
Sweets were cut in half, put in a tin and I was allowed three halves a day. When there was enough sugar and butter we got home-made mint and treacle toffee. I did not see a banana until I was about 7 or 8 years of age, then I couldn't eat it for laughing.
As a regular in Mrs Pearson's shop, Dad got a few extra fags and sweets. Just a small example of the 'black market'.
People were encouraged to grow their own food either in their gardens or the many allotments that were established.
Too old for the forces, Dad was in the Home Guard. He was also moved to London by the Civil Service in 1944 at the time when Hitler was making his final rocket attacks on the Capital. He asked me what he could bring me back. I asked for a metal fire engine like a friends'. He could only obtain a wooden one. Such a disappointment.
An explosion at a nearby Naval Armament Depot (presumably working under pressure) killed 9 people.
A 'land mine' was dropped 2 miles away, causing a big exploion which shattered many windows in town.
Large yellow traingular objects were kept in the harbour and towed out into the Solway Firth for aircraft practice.
When the war ended, Dad took me to see my first coloured light. It was a rather pathetic, but significant, red, white and blue neon tube on top of the factory.
All the family members who had been fighting came back, bearing gifts and with many stories. Two of them had been on the beaches of Dunkirk. Another Uncle had been torpedoed twice. I recall he brought from the Middle East a curved Arab knife, a box of Turkish Delight and a German officer's hat.
In letters to Dad, Uncle Herbert was not allowed to say where he was, but he dropped clues and Dad was pretty good at guessing. As schoolchildren, we all got a message and a 'royal' mug from the King.
Radio was important for information, entertainment and morale. Shows like I.T.M.A. (Tommy Handley in Its That Man Again), Family Favourites and Workers Playtime, which came from a different factory each day, were eagerly anticipated.
There were campaigns to raise money for War Savings and the War Effort. Our evacuees organised a back-yard concert and got me, aged 3, to recite Incy Wincy Spider. This was reported on regional radio.
The war so dominated the news that I remember asking Dad quite seriously, at the age of seven, what news there could possibly be after the War. I couldn't imagine anything else in life.

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