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THE WAR STARTS I was 9 years old when the war started. I remember the day well. We were in church and the vicar had arranged for a family member to come and tell him the news as it was going to be announced on the radio while the morning service was taking place.A sombre mood followed and likewise when my siiters and I returned home. My father had been a very young soldier in The Great War so this news was particulerly poignant for him.

HELPING TO WIN THE WAR All my immediate and mid teenage years were war years and all spent in a beautiful Cotswold village. I remember it as a good and happy time. We always seemed to have plenty to do and all were helping to win the war. We children did knitting, picked potatoes, collected waste paper, rose hips and stinging nettles----I don't know what for----helped make jam and were in concerts and pantomimes to help raise money for the war effort. (The Government haspecial promotions with targets for each community. There was "Wings for Victory" and "Salute the Soldier" among others. A graphic notice kept us informed as to the amount raised and a regular watch was kept on the "thermometer".)We young girls even went round the cottages once a week and collected flowers, which were taken to the nearby American hospital and at Christmas time I remember going there and singing carols. We were given"funny" food, which caused much comment.
There was the saucepan debate in the family. My grandmother had recently purchased two moderen aluminium saucepans to replace the very heavy iron ones. A debate raged as to whether or not these precious saucepans should be handed in to help the Government with their demand for metal, which of course was in great demand. These pans were a sort of 1939 status symbol and they won the argument. Lovely iron gates and railings across the country weren't so lucky.

POTATO PICKING We could have time off school for the potato harvest and by picking earn some money.We thought this an excellent idea. I can't remember 'earning' very much or that we worked very hard. Farms round the village were growing potatoes where they had never been grown before and many hands were needed to gather in the crop before winter. The farmer's wife must have had a soft spot for us as we were invited to the farmhouse at lunchtimes to eat our sandwiches,which she supplemented with milk from the dairy and a delicious pudding made from beestings. This was new to me and the other children.

KNITTING Knitting nights were good. We went on Monday evenings to the Vicarage. Noone worried about us young girls being out alone in the dark,with no lights showing because of the blackout. Together with the vicarage housekeeper we sat round the kitchen range clicking and chattering away and catching up on gossip and news. We knitted for the R.A.F. Comforts Committee. If and WHEN you had knitted four garments you were awarded a very attractive metal badge. I still have mine. Of course being young our enthusiasm for this activity fluctuated but my Grandmother used to make me knit for 1/2 hour each evening and then when I could see the garment nearing completion I was full of enthusiasm again. We knitted mittens, gloves, socks, scarves and balaclavas but I don't remember knitting anything as adventurous as a pullover or sweater. Later on in the war we knitted with thick horrible oily wool making sea-boot stockings for, I think the Merchant Navy. Just after the War we were knitting for children in Greece. We were young but everyone helped in whatever way they could.

FOOD Living in the country, the food during the War was much easier for us than for many. The big gardens produced good food, the orchards gave lovely fruit for jams, chutneys and bottling, all helping us through the winter months and adding to our often meagre rations. We had walnuts and hazel nuts and hens in the back yard and often a pig.(Coutesy of the Governments Pig Scheme.) I do remember the little luxuries that appeared from time to time including items in a food parcel that came from Australia from distant relatives that we had never met. My Grandmother was particularly inventive with whatever ingredients were available and when the butter ration was very small she would sit and "churn" it in a Kilner Jar;this seemed to take ages for the amount of butter resulting from the cream collected from the daily milk. The residue butter milk she would use to mix the batter for the Sunday Yorkshire pudding. Of course when the pig was killed there were lots of treats to go with the excitement of the event. The poor dead pig hanging up in the barn, devoid of all its inside, is a scene well etched on my memory. The sight didn't stop me or my brother and sisters from wanting to partake of any of the resulting pig meat or eventual bacon. As well as home-reared pigs we had wild rabbits to make tasty meals.These were shot on Grandmother's land or knocked out in the harvest fields. I can't ever remember being hungry or not having some sort of meal on the table.
My father, along with two or three other men decided to make cider. A very ancient press was found and any apple unfit for eating or cooking was collected and put into a hessian sack and pressed, the resulting juices of questionable quality, being collected in an equally ancient vat. I think that the results were so unsatisfactory that the activity was short lived. "Tonic," or a type of homemade beer was brewed. This was a bigger success although sugar proved a problem as it also did for the wine making.

AIR RAIDS BOMBS AND FLYING We were of course very aware of the War and even if we children didn't know many details we certainly picked up the vibes when the news was serious or if some disaster had struck near home. There were frightening times too but they were soon forgotten. We often heard the enemy planes flying over and would be up in the night, in complete darkness and feeling very scared. My young sister was particularly frightened and hid into the cushions and blocked her ears. We heard bombs drop one night, from a lone plane, which had obviously lost its way and was pobably lightening its load. This caused quite a stir in the vilage and we all went to look at the craters, which my memory tells me were not that large. Supposedly this line of bombs had killed some cattle and it brought the war near home.
The men in our village area decided that we should have a communal air-raid shelter. It was a complete disaster. It was an underground design to hold about 20 people. Lots of digging took place with a special entrance and ventilation incorporated. We children looked on with keen interest. When the main construction was finished it was the women's turn; a carpet went down, a single bed was installed, tables, chairs and cushions were added. The table was complete with cloth, teacups etc. and even a vase of flowers. We were told that we were not allowed to play in it----good advice as it happened-----but that didn't stop us from peeping in from time to time. I remember how damp it smelt and how dark it was. Disaster soon struck as the roof caved in dramatically, nothing could be salvaged and the whole site looked as though a bomb had scored a direct hit, which was quite ironic. Thinking back I cannot understand why it was ever built there in the first place as the site was quite unsuitable for such a construction, right at the bottom of a hill, just above a stream and into clay. It illustrates fully how frightened everyone was as the likelihood of a small village being bombed was remote, although we did have a training airfield close by.
The airfield and its aircraft became quite a part of our war. We would watch as the trainers circled and flew around and from time to time there would be a crash and if possible we would go and look at the scene. One crash was particularly memorable and was the talk of the village and still well remembered. The aircraft missed the Church tower and nearby houses by only a very few yards. The pilot did not bail out and it was assumed that he had done everything he could to avoid an even bigger disaster. The airfield personnel together with the nearby Americans were very interesting additions to the local scene particuarly the Village Friday night dances.

SCHOOL AND EVACUEES The arrival of the evacuees was a very big event for the village.The main group came from East London together with their teachers. There were one or two children who came to stay with relatives and there were also one or two families that came from S.E. coastal towns. The village school was far too small to take all these additions so the local hall was requisitioned. I cried and cried because i was demoted from the "top" class and had to join those of my own age group in the village hall and also had this strange speaking London teacher. Tears were short lived though as I was soon back from where I had been moved. I think we mixed quite well and to those few evacuees who remained for the whole war they became a real part of the village. I know that many of them were very homesick and thought the village a strange and alien place with its queer speech and very different food and customs.
When I was eleven I left the village school and went to the local Grammar. Despite the difficulties that arose from time time that was a very happy period of my life. We had 7 maths teachers in 4 years, the best of which being the woodwork master and the worst being some highly qualified scientist who went off to do, what we were told, was very important war-work. There were some problems too when we were doing cooking in our domestic science classes. We also had some very odd school dinners. Once we had semolina everyday for about 2 or 3 weeks. The cook was very inventive and did quite clever things with it and we used to tease and say that the next variation would be 'lumpy'.
I very much wanted a fountain pen and if I wanted anything for school and if Mum could afford it she would do her best to get it for me. They were in extremely short supply and 'precious as gold'. dipping a nib pen into ink was not the best method for producing neat and pleasing work. Imagine my joy, when Mum having gone shopping in the little local market town came home with a wonderful blue fountain pen. I know she paid an extortionate amount of money for it but she was so pleased to have managed to find one and to give it to me. I so loved that pen although it wasn't of designer status quality.

THE END OF THE WAR AND VE DAY Of course we were all delighted that the end of the war was coming. Everyone followed avidly the events in Europe, checking daily the newspaper maps, to see the advance of the armies across the Continent. The village was going to celebrate VE Day, May 8th 1945. Shall we ever forget that date? It was extra special for me as I rang the church bells. Church bells had been silenced as their ringing was to be the sign that Germany had invaded our country. Fortunately they had never had to be rung for that reason. When the threat of invasion had passed the bells could again be rung and some of us younger ones went for bell- ringing lessons with the local vicar. One or two dropped out as initially it is quite difficult and frightening if you lost the balance of the bell.I learnt on the treble bell, the lightest in the belfry. It weighs 5cwt. For the victory celebrations we rang some changes and ended by firing the bells. This is a custom of celebration. All the bells sound together in one clash. It is a little tricky as they are not pulled simultaneously because of their different weights. We were so happy and proud to be doing it. The day ended with a social and dance in the village hall. Now for the war in the East to finish; but we had to wait another 3 months for that, until August 16th.

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