On September 4th 1939 I celebrated my fourth birthday. Little did I realise that the day before, war had been declared against Germany.
My life was to be changed in more ways than I was aware of at the time but my parents managed to keep the seriousness of the situation from me. Father had served in the First World War and was now too old to be called up again, as well as being in a ‘reserved occupation’. He would only have to fight if there was an actual invasion. Mother had been a teenager between 1914 and 1918 but her two brothers had been in the Army and fought at Gallipoli and in France so they must have been fearful of the future.
None of their fears were conveyed to me. I noticed that Frank, Father’s assistant in his butcher’s shop was no longer there. He had had to join the RAF, and Mother helped in the shop.
The war lasted until 1945 when I was still only nine years old but certain things remain in my mind. Father made blackout ‘shutters’ to fit in the windows to stop any trace of lights shining outside. These were made of roofing felt fixed in a wooden frame and held in place with clips. Extra curtains were made of heavy black sateen, again to keep the light from showing. I believe that this material was not rationed.
Cast-iron railings were ripped out to be used for the war effort. I remember hearing moans because the railings from the Rectory had not been taken and were still there in 2011 (and still in 2020).
There were food shortages but the only ones that really affected me were the loss of sweets, chocolates and exotic fruit such as oranges and bananas. I was able to have the occasional peach as Father was friendly with the gardener from The Grove and so the odd fruit came our way. Oranges were replaced by bottled orange juice. I don’t know what had been done to it but it tasted as if the juice had been boiled and bore little resemblance to fresh juice. I was a very fussy eater and have since realised that I cannot eat much food with a high fat content. Some foods such as eggs led to ‘bilious attacks’ and pears brought me out in spots.
Living in the country meant that we did not suffer the privations of town and city dwellers. Father delivered meat over a wide area and was given homemade ‘farm butter’- some was good but some decidedly cheese-tasting. Eggs were swapped for meat and offal, and fruit and vegetables also came our way. We did not go short of meat and Mother rendered down lard, made dripping and pork cheeses (brawn) to sell.
My Uncle Arthur and his wife and family lived in Australia and parcels of sweets and dried fruit were sent. This meant that we managed to have a Christmas cake. The parcels came by sea and often arrived damaged and some were probably lost on the way. I could not remember bananas, meringues, ice cream and having as many sweets and chocolate as one would like. Once a week Mr. Spindler from Wenhaston would deliver fish fresh from Lowestoft.I think that we mostly had plaice.
I ate very little and therefore was very much underweight. The school doctor came every year and once told Mother that I should stay for school dinners so I could have a proper meal. Mother was not impressed and informed the Doctor that I could have what food I liked as her husband was a butcher. The reply was ‘Then you must have more than your fair share’. I did not partake of school meals until I went to secondary school.
In the early 1940s evacuees came to the village. They came from Ilford and Romford. These places are only in Essex but seemed like the other side of the world to us as we only knew them as railway stations on the way to Liverpool Street. Now the school was overcrowded and some of the children had to attend classes in the village hall for half a day, swapping over at lunch time. My mother was not very fond of children and certainly not ‘Londoners’. One day notices were sent to householders saying that the evacuees and some of their parents would be gathered in the ‘hut’ and that villagers could go at a certain time and collect a child or children and/or parent to stay with them. Not surprisingly my mother was very busy that day and arrived so late that all the evacuees had been allocated places. Instead we had two soldiers to stay, which were a lot less trouble and went at some time to stay in the camp at Cockfield Hall Park.
The park was now out-of-bounds for the villagers and soldiers with fixed bayonets stood on guard at the gates. This meant that we had to walk considerably further to reach Darsham Station and was not a popular situation especially if you had been shopping in Ipswich or had a suitcase to carry. We were lucky as my father had a van and could often fetch us from the station.
Tanks were kept at the Park and would travel through the village streets at an alarming rate making deep ruts in the roads and gouging large lumps from the kerb stones. After ‘D’ Day it transpired that the mysterious wrapped-up features on the front of the tanks had been the ‘flails’ which had been part of the fleet of ‘Funnies’ used to clear the Normandy Beaches to allow the Allies to invade in 1944. It seems strange to think that we walked to school taking no notice of the tanks—but one thing that really frightened me was a steam roller. These seemingly giant vehicles would grind along the roads rattling and growling, sometimes letting off steam with a whoosh and warning of their approach with a shrill whistle. I don’t know why they bothered with the whistle as I could hear the rotten things from a mile away. When such an engine was in the vicinity I needed an escort to school
As I was an only child I was fortunate in the amount of toys that I was given, especially before the war. Even so, I did not own the amount of toys that children have today and the bulk of them, apart from large items such as dolls and their house and pram were kept in the cupboard under the stairs. I have always wondered why toys are packed in such flimsy boxes and many ended up in the wrong kind of box. Is this why collectors of toys will pay more for a toy still in a pristine box? My two wooden jigsaw puzzles were kept in cardboard boxes which soon broke at the corners. There was no Sellotape then so other ways had to be found to keep the pieces together. The puzzles were cut from ply-wood and some pieces were a half-inch thick, small and made into very complicated shapes, but once they were fitted together they certainly did not fall apart easily. One puzzle was of a ‘chocolate box’ cottage and was about six inches square. The other was slightly larger but with thinner pieces and was a picture of a little girl holding a toy dog.
Aunt Peggy introduced me to paper dolls. The basic dolls came in a book and could be pressed out of cardboard. You then had to cut out the various clothes and fit them on the dolls. One magazine had a collection of dolls from around the world in their native costume. These small dolls had to be coloured and cut out and each doll had the appropriate clothes. One in particular was entitled ‘Jamie Frae Scotland’ I thought that his name was Jamie Frae and Jamie Frae he remains although after a time it dawned on me that ‘Frae’ was supposed to be ‘from’
The usual board games such as Snakes and Ladders, Ludo, Chinese Chequers and Draughts were played. I was not terribly keen on games which relied on luck and I am ashamed to say I was extremely upset if I lost.
One toy that I had gave my father more pleasure than me. It was a book with cardboard shapes to cut out and make up into the various rides and stalls on a fairground. I had never seen a large fairground such as that at Great Yarmouth and did not realise what the finished models should look like. I remember a roundabout with horses hanging from lengths of cotton and ‘The Power House’. The power house was a complicated arrangement of hoppers and elastic bands and with the aid of fine sand was supposed to work the whole fair ground. I don’t think it was ever finished and I wonder what happened to it?
One of the toys I can remember was a little clockwork train. There was an engine, tender and one or two carriages. The track was a circuit about two feet (60cms) across. This was certainly no elaborate set up like those of today. Although I think that building bricks are a boy’s toy I was lucky enough to have a set of ‘Lotts’ bricks. These were made from some chalk-like substance which had a shiny surface. Although they gave the impression of hardness the bricks would break if dropped and corners would chip off. They were different colours and were supplied with an instruction book of plans for constructing several buildings. Unfortunately my set was size (O) and therefore I was unable to make many buildings due to the lack of enough suitable bricks.
Another favourite toy was a farmyard. There was a farmhouse and barn. The animals were made from lead and so most of them ended up with just three legs .There were horses and carts but no tractors.
My best books had been given to me before the war. There was ‘The Children’s Golden Treasury’ for 1939, two collections of Hans Anderson’s stories containing beautiful 1930s illustrations. From 1939 until the late 1940s paper was in short supply. Newspapers were considerably smaller than today. The paper used for books was of poor quality and the printed words were small so as to get as much on a page as possible. My two favourite books were ‘By a Silver Stream’ and ‘Deep Wood’. These were stories about animals living in a village in a wood. There were the usual popular animal characters: an owl, moles and mice. The animals behaved as humans, smoking pipes and cooking food. I loved these stories and passed them on to my son who I believe still has them. (Actually I would rather like to read them again.) I also read Sunny Stories each week and had the Daily Mail annual every year. Other books I particularly remember are Empire Youth annuals. One featured war exploits and the other featured the Empire and Commonwealth. Today books such as these are strictly non-p.c. (politically correct).
Once a week I also had a comic. The first was ‘Rainbow’. Tiger Tim was in this comic. Later on I progressed to ‘Mickey Mouse’ and ‘Radio Fun’. There was not much suitable for teenage girls. The only ones available contained stories of girls at school and were horribly moral. When I went to college I found the same girls there!
My most favourite playthings were our pets. Our next door neighbour had a sister who kept white cats. In the days before female cats were neutered there were always plenty of white kittens. Our first cat was called Tiddles, coloured white until the day I decided to put him in his air-raid shelter. Mother could hear him mewing but all I would say was ‘Tiddles is in his air-raid shelter’. A distraught black kitten was eventually found in the copper-hole in the wash-house. Tiddles was followed by Bunny. Bunny was also white but had one blue eye and one green eye. At night they shone red and green so he became known as Traffic Lights. Bunny was deaf but I loved him and would even send him birthday cards. He loved to be cuddled and I used to dress him in dolls’ clothes and put him in the dolls’ pram. Bunny was eventually replaced with Willie. Willie was a beautiful cat. He also was pure white with green eyes and slept on my bed. Although he was a friendly cat he could assert himself when necessary. I have seen Willie stand up to and see off an alsatian dog. Another favourite trick of his was to sit on the window sill by the back door at the house at Saxmundham and smack the milkman as he went past. Willie lived until he was seventeen years old and so was sadly missed when he died.
As well as the cats there were dogs. When Mrs. Bence-Lambert moved from Thorington Hall she gave Mother her Pekinese dog called Ming. He was not a good-tempered dog and Mother had a small scar on her lip left by an encounter with Ming. When I passed what was then called the eleven-plus examination to go to a grammar school I was given Lucky. She was a small black Pomeranium. I remember that my father travelled down to Bromley in Kent to fetch her. I used to take her for walks but Mother fed and combed her. She lived to a ripe old age and was, like Ming of an unpredictable temper, selecting people’s heels for an unsuspected bite. Aunt Nelly gave me a rabbit. She kept Havana Rex rabbits and made their pelts into gloves. Thumper was an angora with a long silky coat and so unsuitable for gloves. He had a hutch and run on the lawn in summer and lived in the shed in the winter. He was very good at digging holes and had to be watched. Once again Mother did the necessary cleaning, feeding and grooming. Goldfish lived in the large concrete water tank in the garden. In spite of Tiddles having an air-raid shelter I was not really aware of the danger we were in. I accepted that some things were unavailable and would not be seen again until after the war
There was no TV and only one radio station called The Home Service. This delivered news bulletins several times during the day. I believe that any very important messages, i.e. news of a German invasion would be broadcast at either six or nine o’clock in the evening. It was at these times and during other news items that all talking was strictly forbidden by my father.
There were other programmes that my father enjoyed. One was ‘The Brains Trust’ and the other was ‘Palm Court Hotel’ when music was played by a small orchestra in what was supposed to be a hotel. I fear that it was played in nothing more glamorous than a BBC studio. ‘Variety Bandbox’ was broadcast on Saturday evening and I was allowed to stay up after my bath and listen to it. The show comprised a mixture of variety acts – Peter Brough and Archie Andrews, a ventriloquism act, stand-up comics and singers. Father could not stand a crooner called Dorothy Squires. I didn’t like Vic Oliver, a violinist-cum-comedian. Mother liked to listen to ‘Mrs. Dales Diary’, a programme about a Doctor and his wife, a bit like today’s soap operas. After the war ‘Top of the Pops’ was a favourite of mine and ‘Workers’ Playtime’. Both these programmes played popular songs and everyone could enjoy a good sing-a-long.
Newspapers were printed on thin paper and became smaller. The headlines were intended to boost morale but were often economical with the truth.
I remember seeing signs scrawled on the walls “Second Front Now” but I didn’t know what that was all about. Many years later I visited the beaches and towns in front which had been the sites of the “Second Front” and all became clear.
The news on the radio and in the newspapers boasted about the number of towns in Germany which had been bombed – Frankfurt, Munich, Hamburg, Dresden and the Rhur. Successful ‘hits’ were exaggerated, also the number of enemy aircraft which had been shot down. This was all done to make us feel better and feel that we were “getting our own back” after the bombing of London,
In 1941 Uncle Bert and Aunt Ethel (she had given me Pam) invited us to London for a short holiday. Mother and I went first and Father joined us on the Sunday. The sight that most impressed me was that the houses that had been bombed had no front walls. Baths and furniture hung from the floors and resembled the front of my dolls’ house when the front doors were opened.
We went shopping and I had a new pair of black patent shoes. These shoes were pretty but they were an ankle-strap fastening and produced many blisters. They were the most uncomfortable shoes I ever had and therefore I have never, ever had another pair of shoes or sandals with such straps. We went into the big department store of Selfridges and had afternoon tea. The air-raid siren sounded and not one person moved! I was frightened but Mother stayed (probably because she didn’t know what to do or where to go). Uncle and aunt kept a public house in Holland Park Avenue called ‘The Zeppelin’ and did not appear to mind all the upheaval. We went to London Zoo. Most of the animals had been evacuated to Whipsnade but there were a few to see. The Polar bears were on the Mappin Terraces and Ming the giant panda was curled up in his enclosure. I believe that some part of the zoo was damaged. I did not visit London again until the war was well and truly over.
As we lived in a village we comparatively lucky in that we did not have to undergo the main ferocity of The Blitz but East Anglia was flat and near to the Continent and many aerodromes were built over its fields. The farmers may have received a small compensation as they watched heavy machinery flatten hedgerows, fill in ditches and destroy ancient trees. Many lorry loads of concrete were needed to build the miles of runways and the accompanying hangars and other buildings. As well as the Royal Air Force the United States’ Air Force had been leased land for their aerodromes. Lakenheath, Mildenhall and Bentwaters being three of the largest. Martlesham was one of the most famous of the British aerodromes but there were many others. American bombers would go to bomb targets in German-held territories during the day while their British counterparts would travel by night. This meant that at certain times there would be thousands of Lancaster Bombers and Flying Fortresses overhead. The noise was a loud but dull drone, a noise that still worries me. Occasionally there would be a damaged plane limping back to base with maybe one or two engines out-of-order. A special extra-long runway was built at Woodbridge Aerodrome to provide a safe landing for those pilots who only just made it across the North Sea. Others would try to crash land on farmland and not on houses but there was always the thought that your house could be unlucky.
Two incidents stick in my mind. One night Father had to go out as an aeroplane had landed and burst into flames somewhere up Hogg Hill (now Strickland Manor Hill). When he returned he was very upset. I was not told the gory details but the plane had been a German one which our coastal defence guns had shot down. The crew were killed by the crash and then burnt in the ensuing inferno. At least that’s what I would like to think happened. Father said that the smell of the burning bodies was horrific. The remains of the German crew were buried in graves at the far end of the cemetery.
The other incident that I remember took place on Tuesday February 6th 1945 and is described in “Eighth Air Force Bomber Stories”. I remember not the date but the fact that I was called out into the garden to watch a large aeroplane circling the village. It was a Fortress and a Fortress in deep trouble. Father had to keep detailed reports of all incidents regarding air raids etc. The local police had to do the same and the report of February 6th/7th has been preserved. I quote:
“At 8.10 a.m. on Tuesday 6th February 1945 an American Fortress Bomber, home station Eye, crashed in two fields about 300 yards north of the LNER Station, Darsham. The aircraft was completely wrecked and parts burnt out. Wreckage was strewn over the two fields, one being in Darsham and the other in Yoxford. The crew of nine bailed out and landed safely. The aircraft was laden with fragmentation bombs and was going out on a mission. Trouble developed whilst the plane was flying. It circled Yoxford and watchers (me) on the ground saw that one of the engines was on fire. As it came around a second time it appeared that the fire had reached the cockpit. The sound of machine guns was heard from the cockpit and shortly afterwards its bomb load was released. The bombs fell around the area of the station and some animals were killed, various properties damaged and several people frightened. Nobody was killed. The plane crashed just as a fast train to Ipswich was travelling along the track and a train carrying school children to school in Beccles had just left, travelling in the opposite direction. A pair of flying-boots and an oxygen mask were found at Grove Park, Yoxford. PC. Allum of Westleton and PC Leeks of Southwold were present at the scene of the crash and Mr. A.G. Starling, Head Warden for Yoxford, Useful assistance was rendered by Mr. A.G. Starling and SC. W.G. Holmes.”
I understand that the villagers were not pleased that the crew had abandoned the aircraft before heading it out to sea.
Another incident concerning an American aircraft took place above the Five Crossways between Dunwich, Westleton and Hinton. Father took us to Hinton to see ‘Where a plane had exploded mid-air’. There were fragments of metal everywhere, large and small pieces and even an engine buried under a hedge. I thought no more of it and the event was hushed up. Much later it has been surmised that the aircraft was heavily loaded with explosives. It was supposed to be taken over to a target in Germany. The crew would jump out but leave the plane to land and explode on an unknown target. Among the crew was the brother of President of the United States, John Kennedy. The full story of the ill-fated mission is still unknown.
Yoxford was only seven miles from the North Sea coast and so was designated a ‘restricted area’. This meant that we had to obtain a licence from the police when we wanted to have somebody stay at our house for any length of time. Why they sent evacuees to such a vulnerable area is unknown. Anyway, we had to have permission for Aunt Peggy to come and stay with us. She was living in Cheshunt in Hertfordshire and had succumbed to a nervous breakdown because of the bombing. Her fiancé was in the RAF and stationed at High Street, Darsham. He met my father in the New Inn and had explained how ill Peggy was. After receiving the necessary permission Peggy came to stay with us. She stayed for six weeks initially but returned many times and remained a friend until her death at the age of ninety. Peggy had no idea of life in the country and amused us with her pronunciation of local names. I became very fond of Peggy – she had time to play and also brought toys which were unavailable in the local shops. Unfortunately Cyril, who eventually became her husband, was a rear gunner in a Lancaster Bomber and was killed when his plane was shot down whilst on a raid over Poland.
When Father was at home we would all go down into the cellar for shelter. The cellar was dark, damp and had a peculiar musty, stale smell which was not enhanced by the aroma of the railway sleepers which supported the ceiling. I wonder if that cellar is still there? There was a ladder leading into the cellar from the pantry. One day I fell down this ladder and landed in a heap at the bottom. I bruised the top of my spine and this was painful for many years.
Father used to deliver meat to his customers over quite a wide area. Most people did not own cars at that time and those that only used them for private purposes were not allowed a petrol ration so goods had to be delivered to outlying villages. Most villages had a small general store but there were few fridges and so they did not stock fresh meat. Father and the other butchers would deliver to remote farms and workers’ cottages as well as Iken, Tunstall, Benhall, Badingham, Peasenhall and Sibton, Dunwich, Middleton and Westleton. One day Father was travelling towards Dunwich from Westleton when he was machine-gunned by the pilot of a German fighter plane. As Father’s van was a small Austin Seven and did not resemble any military vehicle I can only assume that that pilot was young, glad to be on his way home and was just having a bit of ‘fun’.
Mother was unable to drive a car so she and I made lots of train journeys. We did not go far, Saxmundham, Halesworth, Lowestoft and Ipswich were about as far as we ventured. At that time you did not reserve a seat as is done today, you just went to the station and waited for a particular train and hoped that a seat was available. The carriages were full of soldiers travelling laden with all their kit, many having to stand in the corridors.
Different regiments were stationed at Cockfield Hall Park and would parade through the village from time to time. The Scottish Regiments were a favourite as they played the bagpipes. Sometimes the Americans would march through the village with a band playing. Father reckoned that they could neither march nor play proper marching music.
On the way to the railway station we would pass a field which was full of old, rusty lorries, cars and bits of machinery. This was done to deter gliders from landing as they eventually did in France on ‘D’ Day.
One night Mother and I were hiding under the table after the warning had sounded, as usual Father was out. I can still hear the whistle as those bombs fell and the bang as they exploded. This was the only time that bombs landed anywhere near the village. There was a landmine which destroyed a Lodge house at Little Glemham and the damage caused when the Fortress dumped its bombs over Darsham but the nearest landed on Cockfield Hall that night. The main part of the building was only damaged superficially but the oldest part of the Hall, the gate-house was badly damaged. No doubt the target had been the army camp in the park. Mother and I would stand at night-time and watch the coastal guns shooting at the incoming planes. Red flashes and loud bangs which sounded like fireworks. I don’t like noisy fireworks.
In the latter half of the war Hitler let loose the first flying bomb. I remember seeing drawings of this among Father’s papers (I was nosey and read anything and everything). This bomb was a kind of rocket and was launched from ramps in France and the Netherlands. It sounded quite different from the other planes and when the engine stopped the bomb fell to the ground and exploded. Much damage was caused by these and they were frightening as when the engine stopped you waited for the bang hoping that you were not the target. These weapons were soon nick-named ‘Doodlebugs’. I can’t remember any landing near our village.
Worse was to come. The German scientists had invented a more powerful rocket, ‘Vengeance Weapon Two’. We called them V2s. The V2s were aimed at London and their approach could not be heard. Our planes and defences had learnt ways of either shooting down or disabling the Doodlebugs but the new weapons travelled too fast. It was terrifying for people in London as there was no warning and whole streets could be devastated in one go. They took four minutes from launching to landing on London. These Vengeance Weapons were the precursors of today’s long-range missiles.
Food rationing had been introduced from the start of the war to ensure that everybody would have a fair share of what was available. Of course things did not work out quite like that. People with money could buy things on the ‘black market’ and those with large country estates could provide themselves with extra fruit, vegetables, milk, cheese and butter. I believe that a farmer could kill a pig for himself and a lot of country people kept a pig in a sty in their garden. In villages a certain amount of bartering took place and many people grew their own vegetables in their gardens or on an allotment. In the towns life was much harder. There were few hens to provide precious extra eggs. Many people had no garden and as they were at work during the day and probably up at night fire watching, or kept awake by the bombing there was no time to grow your own vegetables. Housewives would spend much time queuing. I remember my cousin Doreen complaining that, living in Colchester they spent a lot of time ‘Queuding (sic) up’. Looking at the basic ration allowance today it seems surprising that people managed to have enough to eat.
There was no or very little imported fruit and vegetables – so no bananas, oranges, lemons, melons or grapes and fruit and vegetables were only available when in season. Fruit could be preserved in tins and some was imported from Commonwealth countries. Peas were also tinned. They used the larger peas and they were artificially coloured green. Runner beans were sliced and kept in large pots and covered with salt and they lost what little flavour they once had. Some vegetables and fruit were pickled in vinegar or made into chutneys. A special ration of sugar was provided for jam-making. My mother made plum, raspberry, blackcurrant and gooseberry jam. Strawberry jam could be made but there was no commercial pectin to help with the setting so gooseberries were added. Jam-jars were kept from one year to the next but were also collected for the use of the factories. Factory-made jam was a bit of a joke. It was rumoured that these jams were made from turnips, swedes, flavouring and colouring. Pips were supposed to be sawdust or, horror of horrors – sweepings from the floor.
Another way of preserving fruit was in Kilner jars. These glass jars were sterilised by boiling or washing and drying in the oven. The fruit and some water added and a special top loosely put on. The jars and their contents were heated in a large pan of water for a certain time, removed and cooled and the tops tightened. Fruit preserved in this way would last for over a year but lost its colour. Plums were the most successful fruits to keep in this way.
Eggs were preserved in a large pot and covered with a special liquid called ‘water glass’. Eggs would keep for a few months in this way but had to be checked before using. For hundreds of years meat had been preserved by smoking and salting and farmers were able to do this. Tinned salmon was a luxury but tinned sardines and pilchards were available but rationed by a points system. Each person was allowed so many points per month for tinned foods and preserves. You may have had the points but the foods were in short supply. There were very few domestic fridges and no domestic freezers.
Ice-cream was unheard of and milk, being full cream did not keep for long. Most people had a safe for keeping dairy products and meat. These safes were often hung on an outside wall on the coolest side of the house or kept inside near a window which also had a perforated zinc panel, again to keep cool. Milk bottles would be stood in a cool place and sometimes kept in a special terracotta pot filled with water for coolness. Children were allowed extra milk and as my mother did not like it (she preferred sherry) I did have milk to drink but it had to be very fresh and the thought of cups of tea with little white bits floating in still sickens me.
Leaflets were produced in plenty by the Government suggesting some useful ways for making the rations go further. There were also some very peculiar ideas for ‘mock’ cream and various recipes for making something out of nothing. Cakes could be made without sugar or butter or eggs. Flour was no longer whitened so the ‘National’ loaf was a grubby colour. Sliced bread had not been invented so when Mother sliced our loaves they always ended up with a strange triangular piece. Although food was in short supply there were tasty things about. I enjoyed bread toasted over an open fire and then spread with beef- or pork-dripping. In winter, if you knew somebody who owned a walnut tree, fresh nuts were delicious as were the small native chestnuts found in local woods.
Shippams made potted meat which came in several flavours. Sardine, ham and fish were quite nice but the best was made by Mother from boiled liver and bacon, minced and pressed into small pots. This was a great favourite.
We did not go short of meat but did not have large joints. Father’s favourite joint was topside of beef and he usually managed to find a small lean piece for us. We usually had a roast dinner on Saturdays or Sundays. Mother had a habit of over-cooking the meat, much to Father’s disgust but the gravy and Yorkshire puddings were always nice, even if they did not get served at the same time. Unfortunately the roast was followed the next day by cold meat and either mashed or jacket potatoes. I avoid cold roast meat unless it is poultry or pork. Although there were minor disasters with the meat, Mother’s puddings were a different matter.
Bread-and-butter pudding with a crispy topping, creamy rice pudding (no semi-skimmed milk then), sponge pudding with jam and ginger sponge pudding with golden syrup were my favourites. Sausage rolls were nice for tea or a picnic. We often had picnics out in the countryside on Sundays. We had a picnic-case complete with cutlery and crockery. There was a facility for making tea as well. It was a kind of ‘Primus Stove’. If there was the slightest breeze the flame would flare up and Father’s eyebrows would be singed.
Mother made cakes and fruit sent from Australia was a great help. Sponges were her speciality but cakes did not always turn out to be perfect. We (I often helped) made a cherry cake. We iced it with white glace icing. It looked very good indeed. With great ceremony the cake was cut – it was completely hollow! The oven had been too hot and this led to the disaster.
We usually had a hot lunch (called dinner because we weren’t posh) and tea was at five o’clock. This was often sandwiches or bread and butter and salad, celery or watercress. Father must have had something more substantial but I cannot remember what. There would be some sort of cake or pastry. One thing I can remember was made of layers of pastry interleaved with sultanas and sugar. Another was an apple turnover, especially nice with custard. My favourites were little jam or lemon curd tarts. Mine had most of the crust cut off leaving a small handle to make eating less messy. I didn’t like anything messy or sticky. My dresses had to be devoid of any dirty marks. I remember crying because I was sent to school in a dress with a dirty mark on.
Drinks – Mother liked sherry, wine and tea with no milk or sugar. Her tea was like mine is now if you could not see the bottom of the cup through it was too strong. Father liked tea or coffee. He had been in the army and so was not fussy. Coffee at that time came in a bottle. It was called Camp coffee and contained very little actual coffee. Mother never touched coffee, she hated the smell of it and would not even eat a coffee-flavoured chocolate. Father also liked mild beer but each week he bought six bottles of Adnam’s Bitter Ale. With the bitter ale came six small bottles of ‘Vimto’. These were mine to drink. One day when we opened a bottle we found a small drowned mouse. The bottle was returned and replaced. I also drank orange and lemon squash but didn’t like the ‘bits’ in it. I drank neither tea nor coffee but was sometimes given some beer or stout in the never-ending battle to make me fatter. (These measures had no effect until I reached forty years old.) During the war extra milk ration was given to young children and a third of a pint was given out at morning playtime at school. This milk tasted disgusting. In the summer it was not fresh and in winter was either icy or lukewarm from being in front of the fire. We did not drink water straight from the well as it was a horrible brown colour and although it was filtered through a glorious ceramic filter was not really fit to drink.
For breakfast there was porridge, toast or my standby which was a cup of Oxo or Bovril with bread soaked in it – sounds horrible but was delicious on a cold winter’s morning.
Although I was an extremely fussy eater there were two things that I really did not and still do not like. Vinegar and onions were my ‘bêtes noires’ and not liking these meant that a whole list of things containing vinegar and onions were taboo. Salad cream, mayonnaise, any sort of chutney or pickle and most sandwiches which have mayonnaise or vinegar to moisten them. Sauces such as tomato ketchup, Worcestershire sauce, brown sauce, mint sauce and horseradish sauce and the dreadful scent of vinegar on fish and chips are all off my list of edible foods.
In 1941 clothes rationing was introduced. By today’s standards the amount of clothes and shoes that could be purchased was very small and ‘make do and mend’ was the order of the day. A new coat for an adult would use up nearly a year’s ration.
There was plenty of advice from the Government as to how to renovate clothes. Adults’ clothes were cut down to make skirts, coats and dresses for children. Knitted jumpers and cardigans were carefully unpicked, washed and knitted up again. Many colours were used to make up the necessary size. My Uncle Bert was a tailor so he made me skirts from Mother’s old ones. We obtained material by devious (and illegal) means and Mother made nightdresses, knickers (the kind with elastic round the legs) and petticoats. All girls were made to wear the infamous ‘Liberty’ bodice. This garment was made from a white fleecy cotton material and reinforced with strips of tape to keep the thing in shape. As we grew older suspenders were sewn to the bottom edge to keep up our stockings. (Thick lisle, the only silk or nylon stockings were given to women by the American servicemen.) The bodice was fastened with a number of small rubber buttons. The weather was much colder in those days and coal was rationed so houses were not as warm as today. I suppose that a ‘Chillproof’ vest and the Liberty bodice helped to keep us warm but getting the things dry must have been a nightmare. This accounted for the fact that clothes were not changed as often as now. Fresh clothes only on a Sunday, was the order of the day.
I had a dress made from an old parachute. The material was washed, when it would become cream-coloured, it was ‘on the cross’ so difficult to cut out. My dress was embroidered with flowers around the skirt. I reckon Mother had more fun making that dress than I did wearing it. My dresses were usually made to a pattern with a gathered skirt and puff sleeves. They were trimmed with embroidery or lace. I remember I had a mustard-coloured coat and hat which I liked but I also had a navy coat with eight buttons. I hated that coat as it took so long to manipulate all those buttons.
In winter I wore grey or fawn knee-high socks and white ankle-socks in the summer. Shoes were lace up in the cold weather and ‘Clarke’s’ T-strap sandals in the summer. There was no Velcro to make life easier. I had a selection of ‘pixie hoods’ for the cold weather and a sun-bonnet in the summer when I was very young. The damage caused by too much sun was ignored.
My hair was dead straight. I had it cut fairly short and tied with a bow of ribbon or held back with a hair slide. Hair was not washed too often because of the difficulty with drying without a proper dryer. For special occasions my hair would be tied up at bedtime with either rag curlers or metal ones which hurt. The worst pain of all was when these instruments of torture were removed. Curls could also be made using curling-tongs. These were heated in the fire, wiped clean and the hair twisted round. Too hot and the hair was singed, too cool and the hair remained straight. Anyway if the weather was wet, damp or foggy the curls dropped out before you reached your destination. My hair was not a bright red, rather a golden colour but there really should be a law against discrimination for redheads. I suffered by being called ‘Carrots’ and that added to the surname of Starling again made life difficult.
The only holidays I can remember were the weekend in London, various weeks spent with Aunt Nelly in Ipswich or Aunt Susan on Tunstall Common. Aunt Susan’s bungalow was built of stone and was extremely cold in winter. I would go out for walks, play on the common and eat too much chocolate. I never spent a holiday with both my parents. Sometimes we would go to Ipswich on a Saturday and Father insisted on lunch at a hotel. I believe it was The Crown and Anchor. We would go out on a Sunday and take a picnic but this was a rare event. In fact I don’t think anyone went on holiday in wartime. They may have had short stays with relatives but food and transport and time were in very short supply.
Until I was 11 and changed schools I was one of a small group of friends. We would visit each other’s houses and go to birthday parties. Mostly I played and fought with Brenda the Head master’s daughter. Brenda had a younger brother, Cedric. At that time there was no form of immunisation against the so-called ‘childhood’ diseases. These were German measles (rubella), Measles, Whooping cough, Mumps and Chicken pox. These diseases could have dire consequences resulting in handicaps and even death. Unfortunately, Cedric caught Measles which led to meningitis. He was very ill and though he recovered was always a little ‘odd’. I had all these diseases at one time or another before I reached 15 and escaped with only impaired eyesight. Cedric always played with us girls and was quite happy to do so.
Janet lived opposite to us, and her cousin Stella lived in the council houses just along the road. Dinah lived in ‘Wayside’, the large house between Ivydene and the New Inn. Dinah’s father had died when she was quite young.
Dinah married a farm worker, (I was a bridesmaid) and lived in a council house up Hogg Hill. The last time I saw her she was working in the bar at ‘The Griffin’. She had no children.
From time to time I also played with Ivy and Muriel. These two girls were evacuees and not approved of by my parents. I never visited their houses.
In 1944 the ‘Second Front’ was launched. I remember very little about it except that Father followed the news on the radio and in the papers. I presume that the flailing tanks had gone from Cockfield Hall Park. Nothing much else changed and the heavy bombers continued to fly overhead. The doodlebugs were being shot at by the coastal defences and we began to hear of German and Italian prisoners-of-war being in the local area. I do not know where they were kept but there were toys made by them being sold to local people. I was a bit miffed because I did not receive a pokerwork peacock or a pecking-bird toy. This was probably because Father hated the Germans so much.
In 1945 the War in Europe was over. There were celebrations in one of the local parks. There was a fancy-dress parade. I went dressed as ‘Rations’, Sandra from next door went as the Victory Baby. We won nothing. Other things began to change, the blackout was no more, and the valuables were brought up from their hiding place in the tin trunk in the cellar. The ARP forms were left for me to scribble on. Other things did not change and food rationing became even more stringent. There was a shortage of coal, petrol and houses. So many houses had been damaged by bombing, by the forces having requisitioned them and by sheer neglect as no materials were available for repairs.
There is a row of Council Houses near Darsham Station which were begun in 1939. The first house at the top of the hill had been more or less finished but the others were left at various stages of building. Some had been built to roof height, others to the first floor until the one at the lowest end had only the foundations. The builders had cleared away their tools and equipment and left the houses in the same state until after the war when they were completed. I wonder if the present tenants realise how their houses were left open to the elements for six long years? I used to like to investigate these houses and imagine which room was which. Such was the housing shortage that some families moved into the huts on Cockfield Park after the army moved out. They were called ‘squatters’ but were left alone by the Authorities. I remember that Mother gave one woman some bedding and other things. This woman was always grateful and would visit Mother for many years until she died.
Gillian Bryant (nee Starling) 2020