大象传媒

With my father away on active duty during World War II, we lived with our mother in Witton Road, Aston, Birmingham. My mother had to cope on my father's army pension of 拢2 10s a week, which had to cover my mother, four children and the weekly rent of ten shillings. We were lucky because my mother was very clever with her hands and could sew, knit and cook beautifully.
We had a big, black, shiny leaded grate which mother used for cooking and light. It had an oven each side and a metal plate that turned to and fro. This was used to boil pots and kettles of water. The ovens were used for baking cakes and casseroles. In front of the fire, my mother had made a lovely colourful mat out of a hessian sack and old coats - the designs were all her own. The floor was covered with large red tiles which mother kept very shiny. The clothes were aired in front of the fire on a bowguard and clothes horse.
Mother always kept the house clean and tidy and her cooking was good. Neighbours came to see her with ingredients for jam and cakes. Some ingredients were in short supply so everyone shared what they had and what was produced was shared by the owners of the ingredients.
We had no bathroom. Mother bathed us in front of an open fire in a zinc bath. Our toilet was outside and at night, we used a potty kept under the bed.
Mother did not have a washing machine. She used a brew-house which was situated outside. It was a red brick building with a red tiled floor and a brick boiler in the corner. A fire had to be lit under it. Wooden tongs were used to get boiled washing out of the boiler. There was a wringer for clothes and a shallow long brown sink with a wooden drainer. Mother always used two small zinc baths - one for starch and one for blue. Her three lines of washing always looked so clean and white on the line blowing in the wind.
Above our house was a large khaki barrage balloon because we lived close to a landing strip, used by the RAF for planes. Planes could land there and re-fuel in an emergency. It was formerly the school playing field. Because of this air-field, everyone had their own air-raid shelter in the front garden. On our road were factories making bombs and bullets for the war effort, one of which was I.M.I Witton. Opposite was the train station, the tram depot and the army barracks. Every Sunday, soldiers marched up and down the street and we cheered them.
After I was born, my father was shipped abroad. He returned a year later to attend his father's funeral. Only a short visit. My mother became pregnant. She had complications just before my brother was born so we had to go into a Children's Home. The law stated that children, once put in a Home, were not allowed out until they were 15 years of age. Because I had not been treated right, we were let out straight away.
At night, we could see the lightbeams scanning the sky. At night, when the sirens sounded, we went into the air-raid shelter. Mother sang and told us stories in the dark. She had a bag containing a torch, tea flask, sandwiches and some sweets.
Father returned after the war to much rejoicing and happiness. A big bonfire was lit. Everyone sang "Roll out the barrel" and fireworks burst into colourful flares. Men drank beer and children had lemonade and toffee apples.
My father received many letters after the war from men he had helped during the war but he became too emotional to read them. Mother read some aloud with tears of pride in her eyes. She was the same over his medals, stars and stripes. All my father would say was "The war is over and I only did my duty". The letters were destroyed and the medals put in his tallboy with all their wartime letters.

Mother's Protection
(A poem by Joyce Dawn Willis)
In the damp earthy smelling air-raid shelter,
Enclosed in the cold darkness found there,
Whilst the earth trembled with war atrocities,
Mother protected us with her tender loving care.

We could hear bombs dropping quite close to us,
Exploding into many flashes of blazing lights.
Mother lovingly cuddled us in warm blankets,
And told us stories during war terror nights.

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