WWII: Childhood was a case of make do and mend

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Regular correspondent Stuart Haywood, of Church Gresley, recalls, with fondness, a childhood of shortages and deprivations during the Second World War.

I ATTENDED the two minute silence last year to honour the fallen in the two world wars. It was held at the gates of Eureka Park where a monument commemorates the men and women of Swadlincote who made the ultimate sacrifice.

It was a moving ceremony with veterans and youngsters from the Air Training Corps in attendance. While there, I ruminated on my own experiences as a typical young boy of that era.

My father volunteered for Army service on the declaration of war in September 1939. It was not a very popular decision among our immediate relatives as he had my mother and two young children to fend for.

I was three years old and my brother, Clive, was eight months.

My father served with the First Expeditionary Force which was at Dunkirk and then was sent to North Africa and on to Italy.

When war ended in Europe he was sent to Palestine, returning home on Bonfire Night 1945.

During the six years he was in the Army, I can recall only about three or four days when I saw him during all that time.

As I had no recollection of him before the war, he entered our household as a stranger to my brother and me.

With hindsight, there is no doubt that my relationship with my father was blighted by his absence during my formative years.

My mother had the responsibility of bringing up two young boys during a very difficult time. We were fortunate that her father came to live with us and assumed the role of surrogate father to us.

He had lost his wife in 1938 when she collapsed and died while doing the weekly wash. Grandad was a great influence, introducing us to the delights of the countryside.

He also taught me to read and develop an interest in sport, particularly cricket.

In 1938, my father had bought a new three bedroomed semi-detached house in Wood Lane, Newhall, for £435.

It was a wonderful area for young boys. We were surrounded by fields with Bretby Park only 100 yards away. This was our playground during that period.

In peacetime, this would have been an idyllic boyhood. But, because of the war there were many shortcomings. The first was a shortage of money.

My mother, as wife of a serviceman, received an allowance of 17s a week, 5s for me, as the eldest child, and 3s for Clive, making a total of 25s.

Grandad, being of pensionable age, drew his 10s weekly and father also contributed to the family exchequer.

As a soldier serving King and country overseas, he was paid 2s a day. From this was deducted 1s which was sent to my mother. A shilling a day was considered plenty for a fighting man!

My mother had a total income of two guineas a week to cover the needs of two adults and two children.

Using the Government cost-of-living index, this works out roughly as between £70 and £80 a week when translated into today’s values – a bit less than a single pensioner’s allowance.

Of course, there was rationing as well which meant that spending power was very restricted.

There were two types of rationing. For essential foodstuffs we had to register with a grocer or butcher and all purchases were made with them.

The other was a points system which we could use to buy non-essential goods from the shop of your choice provided you had the necessary points.

One item on points were sweets and we could buy them for, perhaps, 6d a quarter and one point. Once you had used your points up, no more sweets.

Clothing and furniture was bought on a similar system. A typical weekly ration for one adult was one egg, 2oz of tea, 8oz sugar, 4oz jam, 2oz butter, 4oz margarine, 2oz lard, 4oz bacon and three pints of milk.

Meat was rationed by price, about 1s/6d.

The rations were subject to availability – if not available, then no rations.

In 1941, a Government survey revealed that the average family income was about £5 a week, making mother’s £2 very low.

The average weekly family spending was 35s on food, 11s on rent, just less than 10s on clothes and 6 to 7s on fuel. Some 25s went on other expenses.

Fruit and vegetables could only be purchased in season as there were practically no imports. I did not see a banana until I was nine years old.

Tomatoes were a luxury and, when they were ripe and available at Bretby nurseries, we walked there, a round-trip of four miles, for a pound for each person.

Because of very serious shortages, queues for mundane items became commonplace, almost a way of life.

The paper shortage had an unexpected result. Obviously newspapers became very small, usually a broadsheet was one folded sheet making four pages.

It was usual that if you required items that needed wrapping that you took your own paper with you. Fruit and vegetables were sold loose and packaging for all goods was minimal.

My brother and I occasionally went collecting salvage together with our pals. We visited households in Wood Lane and usually collected a sackful which we delivered to the local collection point – a help to the war effort.

Friday night was bath night in our house. We were only allowed to use five inches of water and go easy on the soap. Still, the water was just the right depth for playing with my submarine!

When we were old enough, we helped in the garden in the Dig for Victory campaign, while mother repaired clothes as part of Make Do and Mend.

Most clothes sported patches or darns.

Entertainment and information was derived from the wireless and I remember helping with pegging rugs sitting in front of the fire while listening to ITMA, a popular comedy radio show of that era.

Christmas was a very muted celebration compared to nowadays. There was much more emphasis on the religious aspect of the festival. Religion was an important part of my wartime life.

I went to Sunday school twice each Sunday to the United Methodist Church in Newhall and took part in its annual anniversary celebrations.

We played the usual childhood games such as marbles, whip and top and games with cigarette cards, while girls skipped.

We also played a lot of football and scoured the nearby fields for birds’ nests.

We also picked blackberries for jam-making and, when old enough, assisted the local farmer in potato-picking.

This was an era before the age of computers, mobile phones and television.

Very few people owned either a telephone at all and none of my friends’ families ran a car.

After the war, things got worse with regard to food rationing.

In the severe winter of 1947, transport ground to a halt because of the deep snow on road and rail which lasted for many weeks.

Distribution of food and coal was almost impossible all over the country.

Following this setback, there was a slow but general improvement in living conditions. New motor cars could be bought, having previously been made for export only to alleviate perpetual “balance of payments” crises.

It should be appreciated that the UK was bankrupted by the war effort.

However, improvement continued and, in 1954, all rationing came to an end. I was now almost 18 years old and had known only rationing as being a normal part of life.

But being 18 years old had its drawbacks in those days. A fortnight after my 18th birthday, I reported to RAF Cardington having been conscripted to serve two years’ National Service.

I had a very enjoyable wartime childhood, inspite of occasional visits to the air-raid shelter when German bombers were in the area.

I think that my mother went short of food, as did many housewives, to provide sufficient food for their children.

It was an unselfish era.

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This article is from the Derby Evening Telegraph and is reproduced online here.