大象传媒

Mum and Dad's wedding banns were read out at St Pancras' RC Church, Ipswich, at the 11 a.m. Mass and Dad said that everyone came out crying! The reason: it was Sunday 3rd September 1939 and Great Britain found itself at war for the second time in many people's lifetimes.

The wedding took place in St. Pancras Church on Saturday 30th September 1939 and I was born on 2nd November 1940, by which time Dad had been called up for the War but was allowed to stay at home until I was born. On Sunday 10th November 1940, with my auntie (Mum's sister), carried me along Rope Walk from Oxford Road, where I was born, to St. Pancras Church to be baptised.

In January 1941 he left home to join up and apart from a short visit home in 1942 he was away until the War ended and I was starting school (September 1945). Even then he had to go away to Belgium and was finally demobbed in 1946. He had served in the 14th Army and had been in North Africa, India, and Burma.

Although Mum and Dad had started married life in a rented house in Surbiton Rd., which belonged to my maternal grandmother, once Dad had gone to the War the Surbiton Rd. house was rented out to another person and Mum and baby-me went to live in Oxford Road with my maternal grandmother and my aunties who was also my godmother, so that my earliest years and my earliest memories were of life in Oxford Ed.

I remember the blackout curtains, the photo of Winston Churchill on the mantelpiece, the piano which uttered such lovely tunes when my auntie played but was just a mess when I tried (!). I remember Nanny, my grandmother, holding a sheet of newspaper over the newly-lit coal fire to 'draw it', and the fire under the stone copper in the corner of the kitchen which boiled water for the family wash on Mondays.

I remember the sirens so well (even now if I hear a siren it has a strange effect on me) and having to sit on a little stool in the cupboard under the stairs until it was safe to come out (i.e. when the 'all clear' went). This was considered to be the safest area in the house should it get bombed. I remember Stewart Hibberd's clipped tones on the 大象传媒 Radio Home Service as he read the news, and other programmes I recall are 'Music While You Work', 'Workers' Playtime', and 'Itma'.

Outside in the street was a pig bin where householders could deposit the leftover food scraps after dinner. I used to accompany Nanny in this task.

Auntie was a warden and I liked trying on her warden's hat. She had to do firewatch on Alexandra Park which was just at the back of our house, with one side of King's Avenue in-between, some nights as well as her daytime job in a Cemist's shop in St. Helen's St. I loved visiting it - all those little drawers and bottles of medicines and the dark room at the back where the photos were developed.

Also along St. Helen's St. were Mr Golding's butcher's shop, and Mr Page's grocery store, besides the baker's shop where I remember the Hovis loaves. We had ration books and in recent years when I attended a 'Forties Evening' and was given a grey ration book I knew there was something wrong about it. Of course, it should have been *green*. Children's ration books were green.

I reember the cod-liver-oil and Vimoltol that I had to take and rather nice thick orange juice. There were no bananas or ice cream and I remember eating both when I was five or thereabouts. I absolutely hated the taste of bananas and loath them to this day and as for ice cream I was astounded at the COLDness of it in my mouth but I must ave persevered because I do like ice cream.

Sometimes I accompanied Nanny up and down Oxford Rd. dropping envelopes into people's doors, then returning to collect the envelopes hopefully containing money. I was told how lots of the houses in Oxford Rd. had had metal gates and railings in front but these had been carried off for munitions for the war effprts. Nanny used to knit socks for the troops and one day I had an exciting parcel come for me full of interesting things and soap etc. It was a gift from the kind Americans to children like me whose fathers were away fighting.

Near St. Pancras Church, in Tacket Street, there was a butcher's shop called Deeks' where we queued for saussages. Of course, as a child I hated queuing!

Reproduced by Ipswich Museum with Miss Cleary's Permission.

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