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What I used to do when I went in to Beirut, was we had an arrangement where we could get some bananas. We often used to pick them — they weren’t the normal ones you see now- they were tiny. But we used to collect these, and what I used to do was wrap them in straw and put them in a stores box and send them home to the family. Nine times out of ten they’d be rotten. But the tenth one would be ripe, and it was worth it then. My family could have bananas because we really couldn’t get bananas over in England during the war.

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
• Doody
• 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
• 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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