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This story was aritten and submitted to the BBc peoples War by Stuart Mcadam

It is the beginning of April 1941 and Maureen Wilson* is standing in a seemingly never-ending queue of women and children at a fruit and veg shop beside the Ardoyne Chapel in North Belfast. The delicacy of the day comes in the form of Spanish onions, a rarity in what is a meagre time when the tops of leeks act as substandard substitutes. Maureen approaches the counter and collects the onion for her mother. Four places down the queue stands a coy-looking younger girl with a striking family resemblance. Maureen passes her, avoiding eye contact at any cost. She leaves the shop and waits patiently around the corner. Within a few minutes, the other girl appears with a glum look on her face. Empty handed, she offers: “He (the shopkeeper) recognised me as one of the Wilson sisters…Mum will have to make do with the one onion tonight!” For families in cities the length and breadth of the UK, this was the reality of food of rationing for during the Second World War. Aged 10 and the eldest of five children, Maureen Wilson lived with her family in a terraced house in Richview Street*, North Belfast. Her father was a plumber by trade and was on the reserved occupation list. He worked on numerous American and Canadian ships that docked in Belfast Lough. While maintaining the engine rooms, he would make regular visits to the Cook House where he had befriended the ship’s cook who would lavish him with an assortment of items for the family. Maureen vividly recalls one evening when her father returned in a flustered state and proceeded to de robe in a frenzied fashion: “He ripped the straps off his dungarees and revealed a square baking tray which was strapped to his chest. He then tore the tray off and all these currant squares dropped to the floor. We hadn’t tasted raisins or currants in years, but it was at a price because my father had square burn marks over the front of his body because the currant squares were still hot!” The Second World War would last for another four years. Amid the fear, the devastation, the heartache, the indomitable spirit of the men and women of Belfast shone through. However, the rationing during the war is the one thing that still affects Maureen to this day: “I can’t throw anything out — I hate waste”, she says shaking her head. “I remember cutting up my toothpaste tube to scrape the last few drops onto my brush. When I had finished it — and you usually got it once every year — my father would tell us
to stick our brushes up the chimney to hoke out some soot. It was abrasive, but a good cleaning agent nonetheless. I still do it today”, Maureen says with a wink and a nod, “cut my toothpaste tube up that is!” she adds with a smile and a chuckle.

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