大象传媒

Having been born in 1941, my memories of the war are vivid, incomplete but lasting.
The family lived in various Birmingham addresses during and immediately after the war, but the first area in which I remember living was Winson Green. The walls of the brewery (Mitchells and Butlers) seemed to a young child walking up Cape Hill (over the border in Smethwick) to reach the sky and to touch the barrage balloons (tethered to their vehicles or the ground). But this was in complete contrast to the fairground roundabout (nothing else) on a bombed site at the top of the hill. We had little money so I never had a ride.
There were no holidays to be had apart from the occasional day or weekend trip to father's family in Bournemouth or mother's family in Stafford.
Waiting for a train at New Street Station, probably in the summer of 1944, the air raid sirens sounded. I don't remember being frightened, but do remember sheltering in the service tunnels connecting the platforms. The train, I was told, had taken shelter in the New Street Station approach tunnel. We must have been stuck there for two to three hours until the 'all clear' sounded. I heard no bombs.
Meanwhile, my father, Harry, had been called up. Having passed the medical as 'A1', he was sent for training. I saw very little of him after that as he collapsed on the parade ground and tuberculosis (TB) was diagnosed. He spent much of the war in military hospitals (mostly at Cheltenham) and because Mum (Freda) was unable to work (my brother, Terence, was born in 1943) we couldn't afford to visit him.
At VE Day celebrations I remember being terrified by the noise of the tanks rolling down the street.
Fortunately, the government had prepared for peace and two factors had a profound effect on my life. The 1944 Education Act ensured that I received a good education and I was the first in my family, 'In a thousand generations' (Neil Kinnock, somewhat later) to receive a university education. The second was OUR 'prefab.' Prefabricated housing was part of the government's answer to the housing shortage, mostly caused by bombing. Mother always said that, although we had not been bombed out of our house, we were allocated our prefab. because of Dad's illness. I suspect that it was more to do with our precarious housing situation in privately rented property in Balsall Heath (Birmingham). We moved in on my fourth birthday in November 1945 and I left to get married in 1965.
The prefab. (and the others in the row on Wake Green Road, Moseley, Birmingham) is now a listed building and as far as I know, they are the only listed prefabs. in Britain. Ours featured in the centre pages of The Daily Mirror newspaper in summertime around 1946 or 1947. It must have been an article about winning the peace or something similar. It was accompanied by a photograph of Mum cleaning the windows. From memory, it said, 'Mrs. Bates loves cleaning windows'. The paper was kept for a while but Mum destroyed it years ago. I'd love to see it again.
The prefab. was not ideal. Because it was so hot in summer, it was impossible to keep fresh food. Butter melted in an hour. The local authority realised very quickly that this was a problem and all the prefabs. (in my road, anyway) had refrigerators fitted by about 1946, this in a time when few people could afford fridges. In winter, with almost no insulation, they were either cold or expensive to heat. Ours was cold. We couldn't afford the coal, though occasionally a neighbour was good enough to 'lend' us some. We couldn't afford enough blankets for the beds, either, and relied on old coats.
But prefabs. were also a source of fun. One 'game' in particular that I remember was climbing onto the roof, via the gate, and jumping off into the garden. Ours was on previously unused land, and backed onto a field with the River Cole running through it. That led to endless fun - broken bones, falling into the river, contracting a persistent skin disease, plus the usual cuts and bruises. For a city home, it couldn't have been much more rural.
Dad died in 1947. Having been unable to do anything heroic in the war, he was also unable to enjoy his home 'fit for a hero'.

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