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School Air-Raid shelters 鈥� and don鈥檛 forget your gas masks! Mine was a 鈥淢ickey Mouse鈥� one with big ears and a red tongue! The shelters were dark and dirty and the lads wee鈥檇 all over the walls 鈥� it was AWFUL. Many tears for Mummy!
When the air-raid sirens went and you were in the bath 鈥� tough! OUT. DRY. DRESS. SHELTER. And keep head down 鈥� goodness knows why!
All these quirks were serious then but of course laughter now.
Eat up. All your meal or Woolton (the Minister for food I think) would visit and you would be in trouble! Children did not like trouble in those days 鈥� there was enough about for those who had the brain to see 鈥� some had!
Only evacuees cried 鈥� and they had something to cry and sulk about 鈥� away from London and/or home. I never cried 鈥� I fought. Cockney sparrows do!
But they also knew the ways of the world to get through 鈥� actors and actresses of today could learn a thing or two about 鈥渁cting鈥� 鈥� it never leaves you when one had to 鈥渁ct鈥� to survive (pretend 鈥� whatever).
If no garden was available 鈥渢o dig for victory鈥� it was useful to have a relative who worked in a food shop! Believe me. We did, double luck 鈥� made a change.
Also an aunt who worked in an electrical shop and two uncles who worked in textiles 鈥� very handy for light bulbs and material 鈥� of sorts!
We went carol-singing in the dark in 2s and 3s 鈥� no problem.
Once, when Dad was stationed at Norfolk we went to him in his 鈥渄igs鈥� (lodgings). We had to fetch the water in a bucket from a pump half a mile up a hill. It was kept in a 鈥減antry鈥� with a damp cloth cover. Nearby was an American Camp, so we were never short of gum, chocolate, etc. or the ladies of nylon stockings.
The nights were long and warm 鈥� called 鈥渄ouble summer-time鈥�. It wasn鈥檛 all doom and gloom, but it was good when rationing ended and colour came back and we young 鈥渨ar babies鈥� became teenage 鈥渂obby-soxers鈥� (for a very short time). We had a lot of time to make up!

THE BLACK 40鈥檚 鈥� GONE
Poems by Maureen Bludenell Masters

War Years 鈥� 60 years on

Do not celebrate victory 鈥� they say,
It鈥檚 a long time
From 1945
To today.

The enemy鈥檚 defeat 鈥� they say,
Don鈥檛 cheer
It could have been us
In 1945
Yester year.

So listen to the fighters鈥� and survivors鈥� story
Because
We must have first
For peace
A victory.

(Maureen Bludenell Masters, July 2005)

On a war gravestone

I have no children of my own
So it is very clear
None to keep my memory fresh
When I am gone from here.

No child to plant a posy
At my feet and breast
No flowers to drink the dewdrops
As I lie at rest.

Mourn not for me, dear reader
As to this stone you come
I carry with me memories
These 鈥� my memoriam.

(Maureen Brudenell Masters, July 2005)

60 years of P_E_A_C_E

Pray for peace
But first
Pray for victory.

Praise a military glory
But also praise
The courageous endurance of
A civilian population.

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