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Joan Holdsworth
Hard Times.
I was a little girl of seven years old when war broke out. We lived on the outskirts of Birmingham so we didn’t see much bombing, but the few stray bombs we had were very exciting to us youngsters and we scoured the streets for shrapnel.
Schooling was very disrupted with so many of the teachers in the forces so we didn’t learn a lot.
I remember the queues for food and Mother made us wait in a queue whatever they were selling, in hopes.
Father was in the forces so Mom was left to raise three children herself. She used to go cleaning to help subsidise the forces pay. She cleaned a house from top to bottom for 2/6 and was treated like a second class citizen. Times were hard for mothers.
I used to have to wear all my sister’s outgrown clothes because clothes were rationed.
I remember the parties after the war was over and how strange it was when your Dad came back after being away for years and having to learn to live together again.
Thinking back, I’m full of admiration for the way my Mom coped. So many wives went off with the Yankees who were based nearby, but never my Mom.
Another memory is of the double decker buses being parked in our roads, great lines of them, in case the depots got bombed.

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