大象传媒

I was born 7.12.1938 making me 9 months old at the beginning of WW11.My story therefore is not about combat or bombs or evacuation it is simply an account of what it was like to be a child living in wartime conditions totally devoid of men.
We were on holiday at Cleethorpes when the war began,on many of the photos there I am sitting on a donkey with my Dad and Mum.From what my Mum told me when we got back home the M.Ps were there waiting for my Dad as he was in something called the Z reservists.He was in the R.A.M.C drivind an amulance,cobbling shoes, etc., Mum took me up to Moffat in Scotland to see him for what became the last time until war was ended. So my war was composed entirely of females as my five uncles were also in service.
Mum and I went to live with my Gran.in Woodhouse, so every week we had to go to Hunslet on the tram to collect Mums money and get ration books and identity cards,as we were registered there.We also went to see my Dads Mum who was still in Hunslet and all the family would congregate for the day, all Aunts and female cousins of course.
My Grans house had two adresses Craven Road and Speedwell View, it had a kitchen with a large black leaded fireplace coal fire and oven, at the side was a brick set pot for water and a sink, leading off the kichen was the door to the cellar, stone steps quite dangerous as they narrowed at one end to turn. they led to two cellars the smaller one contained bunk beds and a cot, and I can remeber seeing gas masks hanging behind the door. I didnt like to wear mine and I was always told off for playing with the nose which went up and down.As the coal was kept in the other cellar I remember my Mum always washing me scrubbing my face so I shone.
The front room was on Craven Road, and upstairs there were two bedrooms. The toilet was way down the street and you had to remember to take the key.
Speedwell View was very steep cobbles as it was on a steep hill accessed from Meanwood Road where the trams ran, and at the beginning of Woodhouse Ridge.
Gran worked at the Primrose a pub on Meanwood Road and on a farm on Sugarwell Hills , the Pub is still there and the farm is now Meanwood Valley Urban Farm.
I often think how strange it it that things of my childhood so long ago remain while others have gone forever, the new houses on Speedwell View a cul.de.sac. are still there while the streets I roamed as a child are now just a fond memory.
I was three when I began School at Quarry Mount Primary, and remember going to lunch at another school on Woodhouse Street and because my Mother worked at Switchgear on Meanwood Road I also went to this school for my tea, which was always lettuce sandwiches and cocoa I do not think we ever got anything else, hence the memory of tea sixty three years later.
Mum used to mix up the dried scrambled egg and I loved it, I also loved the thick orange juice we got every week from our trips to Hunslet.I do not ever remeber Spam I am sure we must have had it but I dont recall it at all.
At the end of Speedwell View there was a shop selling sweets well a house really with just a curtain to make it into a shop, you had to take your ration book in order to buy anything, but there was never very much for sale.
I never ever heared a bomb go off, I am sure Mum made a good choice going to Woodhouse and leaving Hunslet with all its factories, as our area was all houses and parks.
Gran had a large gramaphone that you had to put needles in and a radio, I do not remember ever having any toys apart from a tin engine which someone gave me and my Mum chased me to take it away and I tripped and cut my nose, (I have the scar to this day)so perhaps its not surprising that I remember with total clarity the day I got the doll. Mum and my Aunt were reading a newspaper when Mum got very excited she had seen an advertisement for a second hand doll for sale, it was 拢2 a fortune then and goodness knows how my Mum got the money together but get it she did and I became the proud owner of a large doll with a stuck on wig, porcelain face with pierced ears, and one dress and pants.How I hated it when Mum washed the dress I used to dress the doll in some of the rags my Gran had for making clipped rugs which she did every evening.
I was always told I had a Dad, who was overseas and I used to get cards sometimes from him but despite Mum regularly taking me to Geoffreys Photographers in my best Clothes to have a photo taken to send to Dad
I never really believed that I had a Dad. I recall one day seeing a man wearing a kilt come to the house next door, I was told it was their Dad come to visit them I couldnt stop crying and sobbed over and over againI did not have a dad as I had never seen him.
I was actually 7 years old when I did first see him.
Other things I remember about the war years was the pot man who came into the street with a horse and cart selling household goods we called him Roley and I loved the horse, you could buy from him and pay a little each week. I think farthings were still in circulation but I am not sure although I remember them.
The highest point of my childhoos was VE day
what a day we had, all the neighbours put up tables on the cobbles and what a party we had, someone made us pinnies and hats out of red white and blue crepe paper. I do not think I was aware of its importance to everyone I just knew it was a special day, a party day.
Well Dad did eventually come home, I recognised him from photos but boy was I scared, we moved back to Hunslet and life settled down to what I had never known a home with a Mum and Dad.
Well my story of WW11 is quite mundane with all the other stories of heroism etc., but I was there, I lived it with all its deprevations which I see so clearly now, my only deprevation was not seeing my Dad for all those years, but how lucky I was to get him back.
My Grandchildren are 11 yr old triplets and a 26yr old solicitor. the Granchildren are amazed when I tell them about my expeiences of the war and the stories I had from My Mum and Dad which of course I cannot tell because they are not my story. In this age of mobile phones, t.v. & computers they cannot imagine how life was then.Another reason for posting this story.
In conclusion although I never saw a bomb drop I make sure all my Granchildren know all about the war years, we watch the Rememberance services and I continually tell them stories of their Great Grandfather and Great Grandmother, I show them the photos I have and the Army paybook of my Dads, we have visited Anne Franks house, so a wartime baby passes it all on, in the hope they will never forget and never have stories of their own war to tell.

Sylvia Kay. 16.7.2005.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.