MEMORIES OF THE WAR

H. DAWSON

I was born in the Back Lane, Knottingley, before World War Two. My memories started with peaceful times followed by the war years. Smells, sight, sounds were part and parcel of my growing up.

I remember my school days when the three R’s were well and truly taught. Three quarters of the atlas coloured pink. Ink wells, monitors and standing in the corner. Scratchy Woollen Vests, Flannelette Knickers, Hopscotch, Conkers, Marbles, Skipping, Comic Cuts, The Beano and weekly Friday baths in a tin tub beside the fire.

There was Dunkirk, the year we stood alone, The Battle of Britain, Winston Churchill saying:

"Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few"

The Blitz. Sirens, Ach Ach Guns, Barrage Balloons, Air Raid Shelters, Bombers Moon, uniformed men and women from all around the world. Blackouts, Identity Cards, Gas Masks, Tight Rations, those weary years coupled with our great sense of humour. Vera Lynn singing ‘When the lights go on again’

After all that, Victor Silvester, The Goon Show, Billy Cotton and his Band. The Archers, Hancocks Half Hour, Tempo Dancing, Football Matches, Scarves and Woolen Hats, Loud Rattles, Stamping Cold Feet. Last night at the proms, Sir Malcolm Sargent. High hedgerows, village ponds, pubs with darts and dominoes, cobbled streets, unarmed bobbies plodding and patient. Guy Fawkes night only on November 5th, fireworks, sticky toffee and parkin, plus thick November fog. Fish and chips in newspapers, bread and dripping, licquorice allsorts…..

No matter where I roam, these things remain in my mind.

H. Dawson
Leeds