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World War 11. Memories of 1939-1945 in and around Bootle, Liverpool
Author Copyright-Joan M. Dyer
Chapter Three.
So by the mid war period my Grandparents in Bootle were finding it too hard to help with three young children and my Mother was on her own, my Dad having been in the army since 1940. She had no home because of the war bombing and little money to maintain herself and three children. At this point my Auntie Edith took us all into her house in Little Strand Road. My brother, Brian tells me this was on 04.04.1944 but I think it may have been 1942/3. We have always admired and thanked Auntie Edith for her generosity and as far as I know there was never a single problem in the arrangement the whole time we were there, which was until nearly the end of the war.
This was the best time we had had as everyone got on extremely well. There was my little cousin Sylvia, who was the sweetest child you could imagine. She had dark hair and eyes and was more like our sister than a cousin. So the story continues with four of us children, my Mother, my Auntie Edith and Uncle Dave. His name was really Llewellyn, but I suppose that was too much for us to cope with and we called him Uncle Dave. He was not called up, perhaps for health reasons or possibly he was in a reserved occupation so was home some of the time but not always. Later he suffered ridicule because he had not gone to the war fronts. He worked in communications for Cable and Wireless the whole of his working life, so a reserve occupation may have applied. (This has now been confirmed by my Aunt Edith). She also told me that on one occasion my Uncle was working in Scotland and having just arrived he asked a policeman where the local telephone exchange was. This nearly caused him to be arrested as a spy! They did not recognise his lilting Welsh accent and were very suspicious of him until he could prove otherwise. This gave rise to much hilarity on his return to Liverpool.
At Christmas the adults were determined to make the best of things, as indeed everyone was. One year they made up a pram for Sylvia and I. It started when they found an old base of a cart or pram on a bomb site. Probably it was left from a lost home after the bombing. Anyway my Mother and Auntie Edith made a sort of leatherette pram hood and apron and they made little bedding from scraps of old clothes and Uncle Dave put wheels on and painted it . It was, as Auntie Edith tells me, the pride and joy of the street and someone offered her five pounds for it, a not inconsiderable amount then. Sylvia and I played with it for many happy hours but I do not know what happened to it. For Christmas you got, literally, in a lyle stocking, an orange in the toe, a few very cheap knick-knacks, very small toys, something hand knitted such as a scarf, cardboard toy cut- out dolls’ and their cut-out dresses, shoes and hats. The boys had hand made small wooden toys but otherwise the same. A chicken usually was slaughtered and fetched from Bickerstaffe, so we were lucky.
Rationing was the bane of my Mum’s life and no doubt the whole nation’s. Food was really short and there was a household of seven, albeit four of whom were children. The dish of Liverpool , ‘scouse’, was used to the ‘nth’ degree. I understand it was Irish in origin as the main base for the recipe was potato and except for Liverpool it would be called hotpot or stew. You could put in any scraps of meat, vegetables such as carrots, swede, turnip or cabbage and anything to bulk it out to a meal and added as much potato as you had available. Mostly you had potato and other items came as lucky extras. The coupon books were studied religiously and this is why the garden at Bickerstaffe and its vegetables gave a boost to any meat ration anyone could get. My Mother also collected the free orange juice and cod liver oil from the clinic. The orange juice was in a medicine bottle and had to be watered down. It was not very nice at all. Worse was the cod liver oil, delivered on a spoon in liquid form and little to alleviate the taste. I shudder now to think of its taste. However my Mother was adamant that we had this each day, in spite of the battles she had when we were reluctant. Whether my cousin could not take these for some reason or what I do not know but she did get mild rickets. So much praise must go to my Mother for insisting we took the dreaded cod liver oil. Later we had Virol and this we all liked. We had a few apples from the apple tree at Bickerstaffe, few if any sweets and I never saw a banana until about 1947/8?
Not only was food rationing, there were clothing coupons too. People re-knitted jumpers or other woollen garments by unravelling them and then knitting them up again, leaving out the worn part of the wool. The rest was second hand or from the clothing ration book allowance. When my brother Terence went to secondary school, about 1945, his entire school uniform was bought with co-op dividend at the co-op store in Byrom Street in Liverpool city centre. We had a never-to-be-forgotten dividend number, 116646, and if we went on an errand we were instructed to use it without fail. You were given a slip with the amount on and I had to hand this to my Mum the moment I got in the house. They were saved with fervour for various purchases and for Christmas but most importantly for extras that we could not afford. Many shops had a pulley-system to deal with cash. Woolworth’s and the Co-op were top venues for seeing this system in action. Your money was put in a two part canister. These were then screwed together to form a ‘box’ and then this was attached to a ‘wire’ above the shop assistants head. She pulled an elasticated handle, the little bell rang, and the canister would shoot along the ceiling of the shop to a raised, almost shed like structure, in the corner of the shop. The all powerful cashier took down the canister, unscrewed the canister, then scrutinised your coupons, cash and purchase as if we were either criminals or, I liked to think occasionally, as if we were very rich spending a fortune in their establishment! The canister would then do a return journey across the ceiling and there was a ritual of retrieving the bits of paper and change and the all important dividend slip. All this to spend a few pence and not more than a shilling or two.
My Mother and Auntie Edith went to everything in terms of free outings or entertainment They both played the piano and were used to the Welsh custom of sing-songs around the piano at home, say, on a Saturday and Sunday night. Everyone would go to one of the

family homes, the piano would strike up with favourite songs and most joined in or would listen happily. The war had, to a point, curtailed these sort of evenings and we were short of a piano at Strand Road. However, the churches and various groups had services and we went to any that we could. We went to the Salvation Army, The Band of Hope to the Temperance movement where we all signed the pledge, that is, promised to abandon the demon of drink. We went to the Welsh chapel, the Church of England and joined in anything we could. We all took part in the Welsh Eisteddfods and my Mother insisted we did something, no matter what talents we did not possess! These were held at Linacre Lane and we were taught by my Mother. In spite of what we thought of our talents we did win some certificates and my Mother and Auntie Edith were justly proud of us. Terence and I won first prize for a duet of ‘Sweet and Low’. Sylvia and I won one for recitation in Welsh and my brothers too. Terence, who became Head Choirboy at Christ Church later won a prize for singing ‘Oh, for the wings of a dove’. Again I am not sure of the dates. Brian tells us that these events filled him with dread and he hated the very thought of singing in the concerts and going into performance!
Many years later Brian was working at the Linacre Mission building having been called out to repair their boiler and when asked about the cost of the work he thought of the old days and could not charge them, feeling that the old place needed a helping hand. He could hear the organ being played way up above him but did not realise that at that moment Terence was playing in the hall above, hopefully earning his fee for his services!
Also much later my Mum organised, taught us all, played the piano and created little concerts for the old peoples’ clubs. She got to know local children who lived near us and if they had even a spark of interest, they were invited along and she taught them too and they were given something to do. At one stage in 1944 we all went to ‘tap dancing’ lessons at St. Monica’s church hall in Fernhill Road. Brian remembers this with little pleasure, being a vivid memory. He writes ‘ I was in a long line of kids when the music stopped and the instructress called out for the Mother of the boy on the end of the line. I saw my Mother’s face light up and she came forward only to be told to ‘take that boy out of the line’ You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at such trauma. I have a feeling that we never went there again. We also took over the Bootle Labour club hall and performed a pageant of the four nations and a ‘Britannia’ figure of Great Britain. My costume and offering was to represent Ireland and I learnt an Irish jig or dance. Sylvia, being fully Welsh was, of course, the choice to represent Wales. I am not sure if this was for a special day or what it was about. Again my Mum did the whole thing, the programme, played the music, taught us all, rehearsed at our house in St. John’s Road and there was a report and photograph in the Bootle Times. Poor Brian went through misery and would much have preferred to be playing football or some other sporting event. He went on to become quite a table tennis player and still plays at Formby.
Joan M. Dyer. Author’s Copyright. 2004.

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