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Food. No-one starved! As far as I know! Rationing was the norm. If you have only that experience (as a child), then it is taken as normal. I think that compared with the excess of today, and the rise of obesity, that we were probably in better shape. The problems were many, e.g.: the inevitable queuing, the shortages of basic household items and the very poor quality of some things like tyres and inner tubes for bikes. My first adult-sized bike was bought (second-hand of course) in 1950. It was a Utility (wartime quality) BSA, painted black all over, no chrome anywhere. The inner tubes were very porous, ‘synthetic rubber’, which needed to be re-inflated after only a few days.

There were many attempts to deal with the food shortages. One scheme involved raising chickens. Ration coupons were used to get chicken-feed in the hope that the pay-off would emerge later in the form of eggs and, after a useful and productive, egg laying life, a real ‘organic’ chicken dinner. My earliest memory is related to a ‘chicken expedition’. My father and his elder brother were not called up for military service, ‘medically unfit’ I think, so they were employed in wartime manufacturing, which frequently meant sixty and occasionally, seventy hour weeks. How they found time to do Air-Raid Warden’s duties and ‘Dig For Victory’ food production is beyond me.

Fertilised hen’s eggs were to be obtained in Streetly. We lived in Yardley, so early one grey Sunday morning we set off. My Dad’s bike had an extra saddle clipped to the cross-bar. Seated in this, my feet were supported by ‘stirrups’ strung from the handlebars, which gave me a clear view of the open road. The round trip to Streetly was about 30 miles, via Stechford, Castle Bromwich, and Sutton Coldfield. We met my uncle and my cousin, similarly mounted, at their Castle Bromwich home, so we passed by the Nuffield plant (now Jaguar), which was at that time churning out Spitfires (over 20,000 in all).

The most memorable events on this trip included going downhill along Stechford Lane to ‘shoot’ the railway bridge; and the obligatory stop at the Parson & Clerk pub in Streetly for pints of beer and Ginger Beer for cousin David and myself. “It’s hot but it’s cold Dad!” The pub is still there. I reckon this would be the winter of ’42/’43. The chicken farming would be a separate story in itself. It suffices to say that the experience was more complex and rewarded us in ways different from the simple expectation.

This story has been entered by Jenni Waugh, ��ѿ��ý Outreach Officer, on behalf of Eric Branson, who accepts the site’s terms and conditions.

For other stories by Bran, see
Now That I Hear Planes: bbc.co.uk/dna/ww2/A9001748
German PoWs In & Around Birmingham: …/A9002125
Strangers In Uniform: …A9002288
Out & About Around Yardley: …/A9002341

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