大象传媒

This story was related to Joan Venus-Evans on the Humber Bus in Pocklington by Mr Brian Shaw of Driffield.

Before the war I lived with my parents, brother and sister in a little two up two down cottage, one of three, on the outskirts of a small village called Gringley-on-the-Hill. I actually had an older brother who lived with my grandparents and visited at Christmas, although it was some years before I realised he even was my brother. As we had to sleep, three of us boys in a single bed, when he was there, I assume the reason for him not living with us was because we didn't have enough room and were extremely poor.

My father couldn't find a job in the area and as there were no state benefits in those days, we lived hand to mouth. I remember being sent to the shop for credit to buy bread and a bit of dripping but often all we had to eat was bread and lard with a bit of salt. We only paid the bill now and then, in fact once we didn't pay it for 32 weeks but they carried on letting us have credit.

Our only income came from mum's hairdressing which took place at night in our front room. We also set traps called snickles, to catch rabbits for the pot. Snickles were wire loops that you set up in such a way,that a rabbit would put its neck through and in struggling, make the wire tighten to cause strangulation.

Now and then we saw a different side of life. We had a French woman and her two children living next door to us. We never knew who her husband was but about twice a year a man in a Saville Row suit and bowler hat visited. She was never short of a bob or two and when it was her childrens' birthdays we were invited to parties where there were buns, jellies and all manner of foods we never usually got a sniff of.

I was about 8 years old when the war started. My Dad was a bit too old to join up, just as he'd been too young for the Great War, I suppose you could say he was lucky in that sense. Due to the war, he was able to get a job demolishing bombed buildings in London. This meant that we at last had some money coming in. We were actually better off, despite rationing.

Then there was the influx of evacuees from London, Birmingham and Nottingham. Although we didn't have enough room for one, they attended our school. Some of the evacuees brought their own teacher with them as well and she taught us sometimes. This was the first time I remember being interested at school. Their teacher opened up a whole new world of learning to us and once actually produced a map of the world in answer to a question about where Finland was. I don't think I'd ever seen a map until then; or even thought much about the possible existence of the world outside Gringley.

A couple of times the bad effects of the war came a bit too close for comfort. The first time was when our nearby woods were bombed by German aircraft. No one went to school the next day, instead we were all up at the woods inspecting the huge craters the bombs had left. Apparently, the Germans were broadcasting the bombing of nearby Gainsborough when in fact, in the blackout, they'd mistaken our woods for the town, leaving it completely unscathed.
The other time a German aircraft crashed just outside Gringley killing the pilot outright. The village gave him a decent burial in a corner of the graveyard on the edge of the village. After all these years I can still picture the name Emile Ludvig on his gravestone. Strangely, there were always fresh flowers on the grave, although no one admitted to placing them there and if anyone saw who did they kept it a secret. I often wonder if the family of Emile Ludvig were ever told where he was shot down and if they've since visited that small corner of a graveyard in Gringley-on-the-Hill.
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Edited by: Alan Brigham - www.hullwebs.co.uk

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