Hi All This could turn out to be an interesting thread for snippets about life at home during war-time. My first offering has it all, adverts for the ladies and a nice little story about the adventures of a well placed cleric. He would be able to relate to his congregation in Pompy. Cheers Keith
When I get the chance I like to peruse the letters in The Times. Here a couple from Jan 1940. It's the reply that made me titter, what a slap downon the appropriate addition to porridge
Three stories from evacuee's that were from South East London. The last two made me 'larf' A clash of cultures 1. A devon foster-mother was encouraging a London boy to show more appreciation for the kndness he received. He retorted, I'll tell you what it is lady. You've got all the manners, we've got all the brains'. 2. 'How do you spell Snarf?' an evacuee asked his foster-mother. She was at a complete loss. He wanted to write home to say, 'Snarf quiet round here'. 3. Returning home from evacuation, a London boy had clearly been subjected to middle class ideas of politeness. When his mother opened the door, he raised his cap and greeted her with the words 'Godd afternoon mother'. She replied, 'Don't you talk to me like that, else I'll give you a clip round the ear ole'.
Hi Drew and welcome !! Your stories make me laugh too ..... though it must have been awful for the kids ... I was reading about the ones that went to the country .... a real culture shock thats for sure - some seeing cows and pigs for the first time !! Heres a picture of an Anderson Shelter .... when we were growing up .... this was the coal shed !!
My mum was born and bred in Tottenham (go spurs), 12/13 years old in 1940 She was evac'ed for only 3 months, her mum a strong Irish woman was not going to let some one else raise her only child, so during the three months Gran made Grandad build a deep and reinforced shelter that could hold the three of them and extra if needed. Gran apparently decked it out to make it allmost a home away from home. As she was sure the house was going to be lost. And had decided that if this happened they would live in the enlarged shelter till they could rebuild. Luckily this never happened though several very close calls. My mum allways remembered the time the bombs were dropping and comming closer with every explosion, Gran was drinking tea and said ,"We stay till I drink my tea, Germans are not stopping me from this cuppa, as she said this my mum says they could see the crockery rattle and jump across the table as each bomb exploded, at a certain point when something fell over, Gran said it's time. Another time mum and Grandad were going from house to shelter when a burst of MG bullets went along the side of the house. they never did figure out who shot them whether a Gerry in a last grasp before crashing or from a fighter shooting downwards on there enemy. Mum reckoned she never saw Gran dad move so fast, by this time he was well into his 40's and a Sargent Major in the local Home Guard, he held this rank mainly due to his WW1 service and also in India after WW1.
