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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Judy Foweraker of Callington U3A on behalf of David Silverstone and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.
David Silverstone. WW2 Memories. PART ONE
OH WHAT A LOVELY WAR I HAD!
We lived in Chadwell Heath, Essex. This is important, because reminiscences of the war are largely influenced by where you lived. For some it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyway, Chadwell Heath was then a leafy suburb between Ilford and Romford, on the Roman road to Colchester, the A12, radiating out northeast of the capital, which was about 25 miles away. So when things really started to happen we were in line for the characteristic throb of German bombers heading for London and the docks, and the glow in the western sky produced by their work became fairly commonplace.
I was born in 1934, so I was five when the war was announced 鈥� not broke out, because nothing happened at first. I remember Mum and Dad and grandparents going all serious and clustering round the pile of bits of a radio my Dad had made. Today鈥檚 DIY was the norm then; boots and shoes were repaired, clothes darned, bikes and motors were repaired, and I remember staggering up to the local bike and radio shop with massive glass jar type accumulators to be recharged. Kids ran errands then 鈥� that鈥檚 what you had them for 鈥� and anyway, the sooner they learned the ways of the world the better! Most people who lived in our road were 鈥渂lown away鈥� Cockneys 鈥� East Enders who had moved out to Dagenham and surrounding suburbs. These people populated the post war new towns of Harlow and Basildon, and became the well known 鈥淓ssex boys and girls鈥� of modern times.
We lived with Dad鈥檚 mother and father in a small terraced house. This was very normal then. Men worked and women stayed at home 鈥� there was 鈥渕en鈥檚 work鈥� and 鈥渨omen鈥檚 work鈥� 鈥� oh how that all changed! Father was the local butcher 鈥� a product of a Sainsbury鈥檚 seven year 鈥渓ive in鈥� apprenticeship. My grandfather was a Cooper at Ind Coopes brewery in Romford. This had a horseflesh shop next door (then called a Belgian Butchers) where people bought large amounts of meat for the 鈥渄ogs鈥�; they must have been big dogs! Everyone knew people ate horseflesh during the war, unless your father was a butcher that is. Mind you, even then you learned never to enquire what you were eating. Not one to tolerate waste, Dad had us eating meat he couldn鈥檛 sell. All in all, we lived very well throughout the war.
Everyone was into the black market. Often us kids 鈥渂lew the gaff鈥� unwittingly whilst running errands, slow to realize the minor dishonesties housewives had with tradesmen, which was necessary to survive in those years. Having relatives in the country helped with a few extras. Also, bartering goods and services was commonplace. 鈥淪pivs鈥� were born during the war. Shadowy, flashily dressed men, who somehow avoided the services, and could get hold of anything 鈥� for a price. Latter day Arthur Daleys and Del Boys became common local characters. Dad did his share; I helped him add cheap paraffin to eke out scarce and expensive petrol. It鈥檚 amazing how much paraffin the old car engines could take before they 鈥減inked鈥� a bit and lost power. Customs and Excise scared him off eventually! It was also amazing what people could get out of the docks. The war changed people鈥檚 perceptions of honesty and many other well-established values.

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