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This story was submitted to the Peoples War website by Judie Krebs for GMR Action Desk on behalf of Eunice Foster and has been submitted with her approval. The author is fully aware of the site's terms and conditions.

Eunice Chadwick was only ten when war broke out, but she still remembers being hungry, cold and too small to qualify for clothing coupons. Her humorous memories take in all these situations.
“I was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of tapping on the door of the greengrocer’s near our house in Broderick Street in Moston. I looked out and could see the lady who lived over the shop explaining to Mrs Gent, the greengrocer, that her soldier husband had come home unexpectedly and she didn’t have enough food in the house to give him breakfast. Because everyone wanted to help a serving soldier, Mrs Gent gave her two tomatoes. Then someone else heard and opened their window and said: “I’ve got some fresh bread from Hills [the local confectioners]. Then other windows went up and people were offering a knob of butter here, a tail end of bacon there.
“I was always hungry and found all these offers of food absolutely fascinating. When someone else offered some lard out of the chip pan, I couldn’t contain my excitement any further and shouted out: “Can I have a dip butty? My elder sister Iris pulled me back from the window and said I was showing her up, so I never got anything that night, except a gnaw on my blanket.�
Another fond food memory concerned eggs. “You were supposed to get one a week but sometimes you could go weeks without one because they were so scarce. But when Mum went for the rations that particular week, she was given four eggs, one for her, Dad, Iris and me.

We were going to have a right treat that Friday — chips, peas and eggs. My father, Henry, was in a reserved occupation, an engineer making Lancaster bombers so he was always home for the evening meal and always got fed first. Then Iris got her egg, and when Mum dished mine up it was rotten.
In fact it was so bad that it was practically dancing round the kitchen. Mum said I had to take it back to the Co-op. I didn’t want to go anywhere near it, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have got another. So I went down the back entry so no-one would see me and I took it back. This great big man leaned right over the counter and asked me what I wanted. I knew just how Oliver Twist must have felt! Very grudgingly he gave me a fresh egg, once he’d had a whiff of the one I’d brought back and told me to go away and not come back. I carried the new egg carefully all the way home and we all had such a feast that night.�
School was always a bore for Eunice, but one particular day it was a total embarrassment as well. “All the pupils were to be given 20 or 30 clothing coupons, so long as you measured 4ft 3in. Everyone else got them, but when I was measured in the morning, I was an eighth of an inch too small. When I went home at dinner time there was great disappointment in our house because those coupons were going to buy shoes for the whole family. My mother and her two sisters weren’t prepared to give them up without a fight, so they fed me extra chips, because one of my aunts said food makes you grow. Then they took me out in the back yard, pressed me up against the wall, took my shoes off and tried pulling me up to the required height. I stood there all dinner time, trying to stretch myself but I knew it was no good. My mum said I had to go back to the headmistress and ask her to try again.

I didn’t really want to but I went and knocked at her door and said: ‘Mrs Lomax, my mum wants you to measure me again,’ to which she replied ‘Yes, I thought she would.’ So she did, but to no avail.�
However, the Chadwick family eventually received their new footwear despite Eunice remaining the same height. “Mum got the coupons weeks later. She never said how — but we all got our shoes.�
Another memory did not have such a satisfactory ending. “One day I was walking on Brick Croft, off Kenyon Lane, when I saw some frogspawn. I wanted to take some to school so we could all see it turn into frogs, but I also thought I’d take some home. When I got it back to our house, all the downstairs rooms were blacked out of course, and the bedroom was very cold, so I decided to put it in the bath. That evening my Dad went up for his weekly bath. He took all his clothes off and, struggling in the dark, felt in the bath, felt something wet and thought it was cold water. So he put some hot in and then got in. He felt this thing again and thought it was soft soap, but suddenly realised what it was. When I realised what he’d realised I left the house in a hurry and didn’t return for several hours hoping he would have calmed down by then. I still got a clock when I got in but it wasn’t as bad as it would have been if he’d got hold of me right away. He never did see the funny side of that …but the neighbours did.�
Another story concerning the bath at number 27 Broderick Street involved a neighbour from across the road whose daughter was getting married the following day.
“One side of the street had baths — our side — but the other side didn’t because the original occupants had refused to pay the extra shilling in the rent. There was an understanding in the street that the price for the bride to have a bath was a shovel of coal, to stoke up the fire for the hot water. The bride’s mother and sister brought the coal the day before the wedding, but later that same day they got one of those dreaded telegrams saying the bridegroom was ‘missing’. The wedding was cancelled, of course, but I was more bothered about the consequences to my body temperature. ‘Mam,’ I said, ‘will we have to give that coal back?’
“What seemed like a long time afterwards, another telegram arrived saying he was alive and the wedding was back on. But the bride wouldn’t wear the original wedding dress and wouldn’t sell it in case it brought another girl bad luck. The day before the wedding finally did take place, the bride’s mother came over to us and said the bride would be having her bath the next morning, but she wasn’t giving us another shovel of coal.�

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