大象传媒

It was 1945 and I was eight years old. It was VE-Day 鈥� Victory in Europe. The news of the German surrender came over the wireless bringing with it the blessed relief that was to be expected. Neighbours ran the length and breath of the street passing the word to anyone who hadn鈥檛 heard it for themselves. There was still a long way to go before the recovery and a long, gradual struggle before things would return to normal. But that was for after. Today, all that was important was the cease-fire.
Something had to be done to mark the occasion. Word passed from neighbour to neighbour, up the street and down, that celebrations were the order of the day and would take place that very evening. A bonfire would be organised at the top of the street to which all were invited to make the appropriate merriment 鈥� probably of the liquid variety.
This was all very well, but the defeat of the Germans was only half the battle. My Mam, being wise, as mams tend to be wise, was sceptical that the celebrations were premature.
鈥淚t鈥檚 not over yet. There鈥檚 still them Japs!鈥� She said.
Came the evening, and in spite of my Mam鈥檚 doubts, the festivities got under way. The street was bedecked with hurriedly made buntings, Union Jacks hung from bedroom windows and great joy fell upon all those who beheld them. The bonfire went ahead as planned, its flames fed by anything that could be found to burn, some of which, I鈥檝e no doubt, the owners would regret the loss of in the days that followed.
That very day I was stricken with some childish complaint or other and I was running a temperature, denying me the pleasure of participating in the celebrations.
鈥淎 good night鈥檚 sleep鈥檒l do you more good than roamin鈥� the streets.鈥� My Mam was being wise again.
By way of compensatiojn and with not a little attempt at bribery, she settled me down in her own bed before joining the rest of the family leaving for the bonfire.
I was feverish and weak, as I lay snuggled in my Mam鈥檚 bed in a house that was empty and silent. The noise from the celebrations drifted down the street and into the bedroom, whilst from below the window, the sound of people scurrying backwards and forwards came clearly to my ears. Suddenly, I felt all alone and very lonely. I climbed out of bed and looked out of the window. The glow from the bonfire reflected on the houses opposite and the shadows of the buntings flickered in the orange glow.
The temptation to join the revelry became too strong to resist. I put on my clothes, unsteady in my fever. Feeling strangely light, I almost floated down the stairs gripping the banister for fear of losing my balance. As I staggered through the front door, my feet would go anywhere but where I wanted them to. Making my unsteady progress towards the sounds of merriment, I was met, half way up the street, by my Mam who had watched my rubber-legged progress from the house.
鈥淲hat are you doing out of bed?鈥� Was her first question, and, 鈥渨here are your socks?鈥� Was her second.
I looked down at my feet. My bonny ankles protruded bare and white above my shoes.
鈥淎h couldn鈥檛 find my socks.鈥� I said, answering the second question first, then in my defence, 鈥渂ut Ah wanted to see the bonfire.鈥�
鈥淐um on, lad.鈥� Said my Mam with an understanding tenderness. She took me by the hand, turned me round, took me home and put me back to bed. I spent the rest of the night in peaceful slumbers, as the rest of Darley Street, and the whole of Great Britain got on with the job of rejoicing 鈥� in spite of them Japs.

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