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DECEMBER 1978 George and I were married on July 30th 1921 as he couldn’t get leave until then. We had been married 52years when he died in 1973. ?1975 MAY 29th I came across this “diary” when turning out drawers recently. I certainly didn’t write it for long, nor very regularly when I did. I wonder how much I’ll do now? After all these years, and nearing my 84th birthday. Perhaps if I make an effort to write a little each day after breakfast? Who knows? George and I were married on July 30th, 1921 and spent almost 52 years together, before his sudden death from a heart attack, in June 1973. I miss him still, though our marriage had many “ups and downs”, but I expect most marriages do, anyway. I continued to work, myself, as a maternity nurse, after we were married, as naturally his service life in the Royal Navy meant he was away from home a great deal. I lived at home, with mother and three of my (half) brothers – Ernest is my only full brother, as my other younger brother, Leslie, died in infancy. Mother married again in 1899, and had five children by my stepfather, whose name was Walter Le Lievre, and his people lived in Jersey where he was born. Anyway, their first child was a girl, (my sister Millie) and then there were 4 more boys! Walter who died at the age of about 20, in India – serving in the Army there, then Jack, Sidney and Reginald the youngest. All married but we all meet now and then. My stepfather died at the age of 59, in 1918 or 19 – I had been working for a County Nursing Ass. at Camberley, but left to start working ‘on my own’ as I could earn more than the nursing ass. paid me. As a fully trained midwife, with past training in general nursing, my salary was £18 a year, and we worked a 12-14 hour day as a matter of course. How times have changed. I must mention, too, that salary during training (I trained in Derby) was £6 annually, but in those days – women had to pay a fee for that training – I wrote to Queen Charlotte’s I remember, enquiring about training, and their fee at that time was £100!!. I tried other well known provincial hospitals, and the cheapest was £45 as a training fee – and then I found that I could join a county nursing association, who would pay the necessary fees but I had to sign a contract to work for them, after successfully passing the examination of the C.M.B., for three years. Salary during training was £6! Yes! Six pounds – but I equipped myself with plenty of underwear, shoes etc – (Uniform was supplied) and did that training. Worked for some 16-18 months then, at Camberley. Then “bought myself out” to work for myself and keep the fees paid, for myself – you see, the nursing ass. charged their patients £2 - 2 weekly for our services, but all we were paid was £12 first year, £18 second year and £24 third year. In those days, nurses stayed in the home of the patient, and took on the “mothers work”. That is to say, the nursing mother and baby was out main job, but we looked after the rest of the family and ran the home, whilst mother was laid up. I don’t mean we did scrubbing and cleaning, but we did look after husband and other children, arranged and cooked meals, etc – a very busy life, and a twelve hour day or more, if necessary. How things have changed over the years since then. No such thing as a “monthly nurse” now. That is what we were called in the days I’m writing about. Most confinements take place in hospitals now – very few in people’s own homes. And although nurses and midwives still work very hard, the do have reasonable hours, proper holidays and salaries befitting their important work. Truly the salaries are enormous when contrasted with those of my day. But most of us truly enjoyed out work and were very happy indeed. I know I enjoyed it very much, and was sorry when, at last, I had to give it up, because my own home and responsibilities there had to take first place. The incident that made me finally give up happened when my elder son, Alan, burst into tears one day, when he saw me change into uniform. He was about three years old, and mother always looked after him, when I was away on a case. He really was very happy with her, and with his uncles, my brothers, who used to play with him and really loved him too. SEPTEMBER 1977 Certainly a long time since I wrote here last. The days pass so quickly. I had my 86th birthday last July! I’ll go back to where I left off last time (May 75). I spoke of still living at my mother’s home, Redtull Derby, but George, my husband, and I had been saving hard to buy our own home, and although he was a Chief Petty Officer in the Royal Navy, service pay was very poor. When we married, in 1921, he could only allow me thirty shillings a week, ????? and when Alan was born, in 1923, I got an extra five shillings from the RN I think Army pay and also the RAF was very similar. Service personnel were allowed child allowances for each child born to a married couple, in the following order 5/- first child, 4/- second, 3/- for the third then 2/- and after that 1/- only for any that came after!! It seems incredible how people managed on such low pay, especially “Navy wives”, as of course, we also had longer separations than Army people. Indeed, Army wives could usually go abroad if their husband’s were settled there, perhaps in India or S Africa, etc, etc – when the British Empire covered a lot of the known world. China was another place a man was likely to be sent to in those days, and when our second child was coming along, over six years after Alan, George was sent to Hong Kong, and John arrived six months after his departure, so father and son did not meet until John was nearly two years old. George and I had bought our first house, in Gillingham, in 1926. The house, very old and quite big, cost £420! Seems incredible that on could buy any house for so low a price, only 50 years ago. I had 6 large rooms, plus a huge coal cellar, which could have held 2 tons of coal quite easily. Those were the days when good coal cost 2/4 per hundredweight, less during the summer, so wise housewives, if the could afford it, would stock up during summer months, and thus help cost of warmth during cold weather. The house overlooked the top of Chatham Hill although the front was in Imperial Road, Gillingham. When we moved there, Luton a suburb of Chatham was built in a valley far below that first house of ours, we could see it narrow streets, and in the distance the land rose again and we could see more and more small houses and bungalows being built there. One very long road was called Magpie Hall Road (I never found out the origin of the name) and at its highest end was “All Saints Hospital” formerly a ‘workhouse’, I was told. Looking from any of our back room windows and to the right, we could see Rochester Cathedral and also barges on that part of the River Medway, about 2 miles away. Our house stood high above the main road, running from Rochester, through part of Chatham and so on to Rainham, Kent (which is now part of Gillingham). In those days a lot of the road from out house to Rainham, was open country, but it is no doubt built on for its entire length now. The Royal Naval Barracks, the Royal Marine Barracks, also the Royal Engineers, were all there, in the Medway towns, and last, but not least, Chatham Dockyard. Trams wound their way from Dockyard and Barrack gates, through the town – very noisily past our house and right through to Rainham itself. We lived in that, our first house, for six years, but times were bad, there was much unemployment, and the time for George’s (compulsory) retirement from the RN looming near, and we realised that it would be difficult for him to find work in the Medway area when he came out of the Navy at the age of 40, with a small pension. It would perhaps be as well to sell our house and rent one for the 2-3 years he had left in the Navy. And this we did, selling the house for the same as we paid for it, although George had done a great deal of repair work throughout. And a bathroom had been added before we bought it and (water heated by a gas geyser over the bath) which had a great deal of glass round the walls, covered with paper to imitate stained glass!! It was extremely cold in the winter. Underneath the bathroom extension, still high above Chatham Hill, was a concrete pathway. We had an extremely bitter winter in 1929 and in February I was nursing a friend expecting her 3rd child. The bedroom she had, up one long flight of stairs, opened into that bathroom, outside of which hung long icicles (18 to 20 inches) all the time she was there. I kept a large coal fire going, of course – in her room, and heaps of blankets and an eiderdown, for her bed and the baby’s cot. Of course, all the water taps upstairs were quite frozen, so I had to keep kettles and saucepans boiling, or light a coke fuelled stove for a large brick built copper lined clothes boiler, for washing nappies, etc. (I was myself, 3 months pregnant with my second child). Both our husbands had been sent to China to Hong Kong. So George didn’t see John until he was about two years old. I see I have already spoke of this part of our early married life! So will continue by saying we did rent a 6 roomed terrace house in Gillingham and lived there for about three years. George left his service life in 1935 and work was hard to find anywhere. After a short period, he decided the only job he could take was in Post Office work. He studied to become a “sorter” without success, after failing to obtain the job he was fitted for, in an armament works at Woolwich or Enfield. So a postman he became and was ‘posted’ to Dartford, which, of course, meant finding a new home in that district. Alan had won a scholarship to Rochester Technical School & School of Art, but on going to Dartford was transferred to one nearer there, at Gravesend. From there he won a place at the Royal College of Art. John meanwhile had commenced school at Dartford and he also won a place at the Technical School there. In 1939 George was re-called to the Royal Navy, just before the outbreak of the 1939 war. When that was declared on Sept 3rd 1939, George was already on the way to Bombay and was there for three and a half years. John had his tenth birthday the week after his father left for India. When we moved to Dartford, we had bought (with a mortgage) a very pleasant new 6 roomed house – very modern for those days – nice garden front and back, and the back of the house (a semi-detached) looked out on to a green open space, which later became allotments, one of which we had for ourselves, quite close to the end of our garden. We lived there for 25years and very happily, except for the war years. Alan also served in the R.N., was called up before he finished the course at the R.C.A. Was also sent to India and Ceylon, and returned to Chatham at the end of hostilities, and returned to the R.C.A., where he met Marjorie, out daughter-in-law from 1955. John went into the Insurance World. He had a very good business head and studied to pass necessary exams. He married Edna in 1959 and they had two sons, Hugh and Murray. His early death, at the age of 35, was a great grief to us all. I’m getting too far ahead. I’ll go back to our life in Dartford. I didn’t write that our new house there cost £575. That same house nowadays would cost at least £25,000, as it was so convenient for people commuting to London and having the choice of three main-line stations, and only a fifteen mile journey by rail. Housewives also, wanting a shopping trip to town, could go by “workman’s train at 7 am” for 2/4d return. They had to return before 4 pm, or else after 6 pm. Trams still went from Dartford to London, although they ended in three or four years after we moved to Dartford, and their place was taken by buses. Travel was very cheap in those days. We didn’t have a big income at all, but had little “treats” when possible – A day down at Brighton by one bus route, gave us several hours at the seaside and we could return by another route, and the return fare was 8/7d. Now it costs about that just to go into Maidstone and back by bus! And that is only a 4.5 mile journey, whereas Brighton must be about 30 miles, or at any rate between 24 and 30 miles, each way. I wonder what today’s bus fare for that return journey would be. Of course, many more people have cars now, therefore all independent of public transport. (Hastings outings described above were from out house here in ??????) Whilst living in Dartford, we “entertained” a great deal. Visitors for weekends were quite a usual thing, either relatives or friends. A very busy and happy life on the whole, (at Dartford we could have a day trip to Brighton for about 5/-) and one of our treats on a summer evening was to go to Greenwich Park for 6d! The Royal Observatory was then housed there and it was a lovely place to roam around in (the park I mean). A lovely view of the River Thames, and of course we always had such outings when we had any visitors staying with us. The journey by tram, or bus, was quite a long one and through Dartford, Bexleyheath, Welling and all that journey for 6d after 6pm. October 1977 Back in time again, just remembering events of long ago. I always wanted to enter the nursing profession, but in my young days it was necessary to have had an education in a Grammar School, and although I was one of two pupils in a “Church School” who passed a “scholarship” examination, I was not able to accept it. Being the eldest of a family of eight, my mother could not afford school uniform, in those days no help in such matters, when wages were very low even for tradesmen and skilled workers. I found, however, that I could get work in a mental hospital, such hospitals were called asylums in those days. So I applied for a job as a pupil nurse at Netherne Hospital in Surrey, and having filled up necessary forms was engaged to start there in the early part of the First World War. I enjoyed the lectures, First Aid work and my “prelim”, both of which exams I passed after my first year there. But then, because of the War, and so many doctors being in the Armed Forces, lectures had to be stopped for some time, which meant I couldn’t take further exam work. Here I can mention that a nurse’s working day was from 6 am until 8 pm, with one hours break for mid-day meal, and half an hour for tea! I cannot remember that we had an evening meal! Food was scarce and poor because of the war, and in the first year or so nothing was rationed, and so much was difficult to get, even when off duty. Oh! Pay – first year was £18, second £24, and I did not stay longer, being at a standstill regarding exams. I decided I would like to become a certified midwife. Another snag, though – one had to pay for training. Queen Charlottes, in London, was the most famous School, but when I enquired there, found the fee for training was £100. Impossible for me! And in the provinces, wherever there was a good training school, fees were about £45. Still impossible for me. I used to read the “Nursing Mirror” each week, and found that several County Councils offered to train suitable applicants free, but one had to agree to work for whichever association paid for our training, for three years, after passing the examination. I was accepted as a candidate for Surrey County Nursing Association, and went to Derby for my training. Salary £6 for a years training, 6 months of which was to get my C.M.B. (certified midwife by examination, to give it its full title) and another 6 months was spent in general district work, also work in another hospital looking after the severely disabled and work in a hostel for unmarried mothers and their babies. No set hours of work at all. No special time given for swotting up for examinations and the fact that a lot of our work meant going from one patient to another outdoors was considered enough fresh air for us, anyway. The end of the First World War came on Nov 11th 1918, whilst I was still in Derby. During the year I was there I nursed a lot of people (district work) suffErng what was then called “Spanish Flu”. I paid a 2nd or perhaps 3rd visit to a man and wife, both ill with it, and on the last morning found the husband had died and his wife hadn’t realised it. It was terrible for her, poor woman. By the way, in spite of our low salary (paid quarterly, by the way, a whole 30 shillings) we nurses (Matron and Sisters also) managed to provide a Christmas party for some of the poorest children near the Nurses Home, and somehow provided little gifts to put on the Xmas Tree, for the children. I remember buying a doll for 3d and dressing it so smartly it had place of honour on top of the tree! And one of the doctors ‘bagged’ it for some child he knew. I was flattered that he liked the doll, but did think he was a bit mean. Derby, in those days was not a City, only the County Capital, and around its beautiful Parish Church, now Derby Cathedral, were the most terrible slums I ever saw in the whole of my nursing life. One-roomed hovels, with a family of perhaps 6 people living in them. One cold water tap in an outside yard to serve at least four “houses”. Indescribable “privies” also shared between them! Imagine our difficulty in getting hot water, even trying to keep things clean, anyway. DelivErng a woman in childbirth, for instance, having to turn other children outdoors so that we could get on with our work. I nursed miners’ wives before pit head baths were even thought of, and wages for miners were perhaps £1 or £1-5/- a week. But they were so grateful, most of them for all we tried to do to help them, even to buying flowers to five us, and on one occasion, attending a particularly dirty old lady, I found a bunch of grapes to be given to me, unwrapped on her bed! I didn’t like to hurt her feelings by refusing, but gave them to some delighted youngsters when I got away from her street. All my district work was done on foot, I may say, I was never able to manage to ride a bicycle! Some kink in me meant I never mastered the way to do that, so I walked – miles and miles – occasionally using a tram for a longer journey, perhaps – but one could have a long ride for 0.5d in those days – and I made sure that I had good footwear, and underclothes, before I went to Derby in the first place. Uniform was supplied by Surrey Nursing Association of course, and girls I trained with came from all over England, but chiefly from Midlands and Northern Counties – also a few Welsh. Uniforms provided by their own Counties needless to say, so a certain variety their in our attire! Early in 1919 I was doing a month’s relief duty at a home for unmarried mothers, when a terrible accident occurred. I was doing night duty, so slept in an annex, not in the Home itself. The weather was bitterly cold, and when it was nearly time to go on duty, I decided to go into the Home a bit early, and get warmed up before I started work. I had to cross a frozen lawn from the annex to the door of the babies nursery, where I was to work, (after a meal which I took first, usually) but on this dark night I was surprised to notice the nursery lit up, instead of in darkness, as was usual. When I went in, I found one of the cots was ablaze and a second one catching fire – and shouted to the day nurses who were having their supper in the dining room. All came rushing in and we managed to get the babies into another room, but two of them died as a result of the terrible affair. Then, there was a large open fire in the nursery with cots round it in a semi-circle, and at the inquest which followed, it seemed that one of the young unmarried mothers had been the last one to make up the fire and it was assumed that the centre of the fire had burning through and scattered the remaining coals on top over the hearth, and thus caused sparks to ignite the drapery round the cots – possible nappies airing nearby, also. The coroner at the inquest reprimanded the way the Home was managed - needless to say, but we nurses were commended for our part in rescuing the children “clad only in cotton uniforms, which could also have easily caught fire”. It was a really terrible thing and haunted me for a long time, although I was not even on duty at the time. After I had finished my year in Derby, I returned to Camberley, to the Nurses Home, quite close to Sandhurst by the way, and the road where we lived was called “Kings Ride”! We lived there between cases, and as it was a busy little town, we weren’t often in the Nurse’s Home. Midwives, in those days, could do district nursing, or go as a “monthly nurse” to a private home (cottage or larger houses) where “Nurse” took the place of “Mother”. That is to say, a nurse would be booked to attend a woman in childbirth, but also take on certain household tasks, like looking after household management to a certain extent. Seeing to meals, and looking after other children perhaps and of course, the husband! Mother and baby, (when born) were your primary duty, and if you were lucky, there would be a maid, or maids even, to do the work of the house. If not, the nurse had to do the cooking, and mother and baby’s washing, and attend to children too young to wash and dress themselves. Women were always kept in bed for at least ten days after childbirth. One doctor I worked for, liked them to say for 17 days – said it saved a lot of trouble “later on”. Probably quite right, but few mothers get such a nice rest nowadays, I know. Most babies are born in hospital now and mother and baby go home 48 hours later, to be ‘nursed’ at home! I did not stay at Camberley for the full three years I should have worked for that Nursing Association. When I left Derby and before starting work in Camberley I had a two-week holiday to come, so went home to Redhill to spend the time with my mother and the two step-brothers who were still at home. Incorrect! I should say four step-brothers. My only half-sister was working a Netherne, and two of my step-brothers had started work, and two were still at school. My own brother, Ernest, was in the Royal Navy, and home on leave at the same time as I was, an added joy to me. He had spent part of his leave at a village near Dover, with a chum of his, and George, was in Redhill when I got there, to spend a return visit to our home. We fell in love, at first sight! Mind you, I was 28 at this time, and in my extremely busy life, had met very few young and single men!! We did have a happy holiday in that year of 1919. But then I had to return to Camberley, to my work there, and George and Ern to their ship. However, the war was over and they were stationed at Chatham, so got home fairly often for weekend leave. The hours I had to work, rather prevented many meetings, but we wrote frequently, and in the second year of my work in Camberley, I decided to “buy myself out” of that Nursing Association. In the agreement which I had to sign when I joined, it said one could do this on payment of a sum of money to recompense the Ass. for the fees they had paid for our tuition, according to the time a nurse had served them. I’ve mentioned earlier our salaries were very low, second year pay only £24 but the Home charges £2 2s weekly to the people we nursed. (Sounds so little nowadays) but I knew I could earn that money if I started private nursing and decided I would do just that. My mother was widowed, and had a hard life. No widow’s pensions in those days, and she would do any kind of work possible to keep the boys clothed and fed until they could work for themselves. The eldest of my step-brothers joined the Army, spent some time in Germany, then was sent to India where he died before he was 21, poor boy. The next eldest brother went on the railway first of all as porter-signal-man, which meant really, he was training to be a signalman. He worked very hard and studies and eventually became a Station Master, first a Waterloo, and later at Horsham, Brighton and Hove. The next brother became an electrician! And the youngest, after a period in the Army, passed an exam to become a Civil Servant. Those 3 brothers married. The eldest has one son, now Lt-Col in the Army. The youngest married and he and his wife have a son and daughter. After mother’s death the one remaining unmarried met and married Greta and is the only of the family to have all daughters, 3 of them. Reg, the youngest, is the only one to have a son and a daughter. The rest of us all had sons, and we all have grandchildren. Sons still predominating. My brother Ernest had four sons, three still living and the have sons and daughters in their grandchildren. What a family history this is. We all meet from time to time, and keep in touch by letters and phone talks, nowadays. My red-letter day, every week, is the visit I get from my son Alan, usually on Saturdays. That is, unless he is way on business, as he was in August of this year, 1977, when he went to America. His first visit to that continent, and he , with his party of models, visited Los Angeles, and Las Vegas, but had such a long time getting their photographs, etc, that they were quite unable to go sight-seeing or even shopping, except to Restaurants, when necessary to have a meal! And what meals they were. He mentioned that if one asked for a boiled egg, for instance, for a 10 am breakfast, you go 3, plus umpteen side dishes. He was told that a certain “steak house” was excellent, and went there and found that a porterhouse steak could weigh up to 20 or 22 oz! So he had a 0.5 lb one, but even that was served with apple sauce, beans in tomato sauce, and 2 6” pancakes, all on one plate! Separately warmed maple syrup to go with the pancakes! They seemed to have only to meals a day, but they were enormous. And people in their fifties, or thereabouts, were mostly grossly fat!! He found all Americans very friendly indeed, and said he had long and interesting conversations with complete strangers. People in this Country are not so forthcoming, by nature, I’m afraid. Whilst he was in America, Marjorie, his wife, and her sister, went to Malta for a holiday, plenty of history on that small island. Not much natural beauty, though – I think – George and thousands of British Service men knew it well, in days gone by, especially during the two World Wars. To go back a bit more, George, my husband, served in the Gallipolean campaign (also my brother) during the beginning of 1915 until nearly the end of 1917. A most terrible and monotonous existence for all forces who were stationed there. George kept a diary during the whole time, but so little, really to write about. A most heroic effort on the part of a young man (he was 19 years old when they went out). They had to take army personnel to land them on the beaches at times, and in the worst part of that campaign, soldiers were shot down like ninepins. He describes bodies lying on the beaches for days, because no one could get ashore to bury then. What dreadful and terrible experiences they all had. Food, also, was very bad indeed, although very occasionally they could have a raiding party land to get a sheep or two from the mountainsides – but not often enough to feed the men properly. When they returned home, in late 1917, George had a short leave and went home to his people who lived just outside Dover. His mother burst into tears at his appearance. He was like a living skeleton, she once told me, but after a few weeks, he was looking his normal self, even although food here wasn’t all that good. But all who could give any little luxury to the lads who were able to come home on leave, did so and so they soon recovered. I think, after their return from the Dardanelle’s, they had a new ship, HMS Commonwealth? and were sent to the North of Scotland “Scapa Flow”? The ship George and Ern served on, at Gallipoli, was HMS Lord Nelson. The diary my husband kept at that time is now kept in the Archives of Sunderland Polytechnic. Mr Peter Liddle, a lecturer there, has written and published a book called “Men of Gallipoli” and three extracts from George’s diary appear therein. Mr Liddle says that in time to come, the diary may come to the United Services Museum in London. At any rate, it is being preserved for posterity, whether in Sunderland, or London, remains to be seen. We, his family, feel very proud of this. George and I were married 52 years when he died, quite suddenly from a heart attack, in 1973. Over four years ago and I still miss him. In all this ‘journal’ written since 1975, I have quite omitted to mention my only half-sister, Millie, although we are “closer” in affection I think, than we are with our brothers. Mille was married and had one son, but was widowed quite a few years ago. Her son married, indeed, he ‘s had his silver wedding recently, I think, but went to Australia some years ago, and his wife and he have two sons, also now in their late teens. They were born in England, however, and went out to Australia, when their parents, and maternal grandparents went out there. Millie is just ten years younger than I am, which means she is now 76 years of age, but certainly doesn’t look it, and gets around ‘like-a-two year old’. She spends a holiday with me each summer, which I enjoy very much. She works for an “over sixty club” making tea and looking after the old folk there!! You see, she doesn’t consider she is one of then at all. More recently, she has joined a second club, but here she enjoys being waited on herself! She does sewing for many friends, is really clever at making children’s clothes from the best parts of grown-up clothes, so her work is in great demand - replacing zips that are worn out in men’s trousers. I could also sew and knit like this, until my sight deteriorated too much. Now I have to keep to fairly plain knitting, and the only sewing I do has to be by hand, I cannot see to thread a sewing machine needle, but manage to keep very busy. Old age slows my movements very much, and I also have arthritic knees, so have to us a frame to walk about my little bungalow. Thank goodness I have no steps indoors at all. I am really very fortunate. Anyway, should have said earlier, that Millie surprised us all last year, when she decided to go out to Australia and visit her son and his family there. What a re-union that must have been. They took her around a lot, visiting other places than where they now live, called Para Hills. Adelaide is the nearest large city. Strangely enough an Uncle of ours – my mother’s brother, George went out to Adelaide about 60 years ago! He and his wife and little daughter, Mary. I have corresponded with Mary the past four years, but when Millie went out there last year they were unable to meet, for Mary was about 600 miles away, I know distances are enormous out there. Millie enjoyed her visit, but was quite pleased to get back to England and to her own home once more. She has always lived in Surrey, except for the first seven years of her live. She was born near Tunbridge Wells, but her father and out mother moved to Redhill and so she and her brothers all went to school there and indeed, all lived there until they married, except for Wallie, the eldest, who died when serving in the Army in India. It is now November 1977, not a very happy year for our country, continual industrial strife, first in one big firm or business, then another. At this time we have a threatened miner’s strike, and all this week, one part of the UK and then another are suffering “black-outs”, when electricity is cut off. Here, in villages to the south of Maidstone, we were in Darkness for just one – two hours on Monday, and so it continues, first in one place and then another. It is particularly dangerous for motorists, as traffic signals, of course, are also ‘cut out’ being electrically controlled, and so many other things. I often wonder what troubles our young people are growing up to face. Unemployment is very bad. Really, when wages were so low, as in the ‘30s’, it did not seem so bad as it is now with wages ranging from £50 to £100 per week for thousands of workers, and still these people aren’t satisfied. It makes everything so dear, food, clothing, everything. Tourism is another hazard in various parts of our “civilised world” today. The country now has a nationwide Firemen’s strike, and it has been on now for ten days. So the Army and Navy are called in to help when fires occur in any flat or dwelling-house, or hospitals, even if a fire occurs or is threatened. What a terrible lot of harm could be caused in such circumstances. Miners and others also threaten to strike if they do not get the extremely high salaries they ask for. Don’t seem to realise everyone has to pay even higher taxes to pay for nationalised industries. And this sort of thing seems to be happening in so many parts of the world. December now – Firemen’s strike goes on, but several are drifting back to work. With Christmas getting near, I think a lot of workers on strike, official or otherwise, would like to be working for good wages once more. Strikes are so common nowadays and do no good to workers, employers, or anyone else. It just means everyone has to pay higher prices for everything, and makes more people unemployed. It’s time some of them learned to stand up for the right to work, instead of meekly going ‘on strike’ every time a few ’militants’ decide to stir up some new or imagined grievance. This sort of thing seems to be happening all over the world, in one form or another. There’s usually no good reason for it at all nowadays. No matter whether the Government is Tory, Labour or whatever, some people refuse to be satisfied, and are just out to make trouble somewhere. Had a phone talk with Hugh and Edna. Hugh is enjoying his new school, and I do hope he will be able to get a good job when he finally leaves college. He, at present, does not know what he wants to do, but he will be at school for another two years at lease, we hope. So much unemployment in our Country at present, and this trouble seems to be everywhere, on the continent of Europe, but also in America, and indeed, this trouble seems to be world wide, for I hear it is equally bad in Australia, also. We’re now in March 1978! We had some very cold weather in the early part of January, but Scotland and the North, and later Cornwall and Devon and parts of Dover suffered heavy snow storms, and then when the thaw came, flooding caused by the melting snow and overflowing rivers. The snow we had here was heavy for one day only, but weather continues very cold and windy, so our snow (in Kent) laid on the ground for almost 8 days. However, it did eventually go, and we had no more and now the weather is milder and quite bearable. I am missing Alan’s weekly visits already. He left Heathrow early last Sunday, to go on a business trip to Athens and will be away for 3 weeks, so I cannot expect to see him until the Saturday after his return. I have quite a few letters to answer, meanwhile, so better get busy and reply to them! I am fortunate that neighbours come in to see me, one dear friend comes in every day and is truly like a daughter to me, but others also come and this is a great help to me, now that I am house-bound. I used to be able to attend local meetings of one kind and another, and would be fetched by one or another of my friends who had a car and could do so. Alas, this again, I have to give up on account of increasing deafness. With my hearing aid, I can enjoy people talking in my own home, just 2 or 3 who would be visiting me, but in a larger community, I am unable to hear a friend talking to me, because of the noise of other little parties of people talking. The hub-bub of lots of people is too much, and I’ve had to give up meetings of any kind. I’ve enjoyed Church and Church Services for most of my life, and attended the Services at St Mary’s, Langley, where I now live until almost two or three years ago, but I cannot now manage the steps leading to the Church, so have to be content with watching the Services, in various parts of the Country, on television programs. I enjoy them, but it isn’t the same as being a member of the congregation. I sang in St Mary’s Church choir for about ten years, and was grieved that I had to give that up. Going back again to nursing days, I was in the choir at Netherne Hospital and also took part, when possible, in a choir in Derby. April 12th 1978 Alan has been back for over 3 weeks, and needless to say, I’ve enjoyed his weekly visits since his return. May 24th Quite a time since I wrote here last, weather on the whole, remains very cool indeed, no real sign of Spring even, let alone Summer. This is as far as I got apparently on May 24th. (I seem to remember that when I was young, this was called ”Empire Day” and was Queen Victoria’s birthday). Well, we’re now nearing the first week of June, and after a few days of real summer weather, today has been so cloudy and dull, I had to have lights on by 7 pm, instead of being daylight until nearly 9 pm. We could do with a few hours of soft warm rain, for we’ve had a very cold by dry, Spring, and the gardens are dry although green things look good. And the fruit trees certainly had lots of bloom, so I hope we get plenty of fruit later on, and I can get busy jam making! Alan has been to see me each Saturday, and how I look forward to his visits. About 3-4 weeks ago, he came on a Sunday, as he had been in Dublin and Bradford and Leeds during the previous week, so had had a very busy time. This particular Sunday was a lovely day as regards the weather, sunny and bright all the day long, so we went for a real country drive in Alan’s car, and what a delight the lanes were, with primroses in the hedgerows, and “milkmaids” and other wild flowers, and all the different shades of green in trees and hedges, etc. We both enjoyed that drive very much indeed. It was the first time I had been out since Christmas! Last week I went out for a brief time to keep an appointment with an optician, hoping I could have stronger lenses in my spectacles, but alas, although my sight, like my hearing, is deteriorating, nothing more can be done for me to improve either! That’s the trouble in being “old” but I’ve been fortunate in so many ways. I still find plenty to interest me even although I can only go out when taken in a car. At present, I haven’t much knitting to do and look forward to making something interesting again, when some-one needs something made. I miss sewing things very much, but it is not possible for me to use my faithful old sewing machine, which I bought in 1910. Nowadays, everyone uses electric sewing machines, but I’ve never wanted one of those, certainly shan’t start now. Can do necessary hand sewing still. August 20th 1978 What a time since I last wrote herein. But I’ve had two or three nice knitting jobs to get on with, and seem to fill my days very easily, one way or another. I like doing jigsaw puzzles and had a large one given me for my 87th birthday last month. Alas, it’s too big for my board, and I rang the stores where it was bought to ask if they could change it for a smaller one, of perhaps two much smaller ones! They are willing to do so, but nothing in stock at present. Charles has kindly taken the big one in for me, and I don’t mind waiting as Millie also sent me one, which I’ve almost finished, but will probably take another week to complete, as I am busy with other things at present. We have real summer, at long last sunny and warm. Alas, my fruit bushes didn’t yield much, in spite of so much bloom. The continual cold and dry weather prevented bees from coming along to do their work! Alas, a fair amount of apples, more than I can use, as they aren’t “keepers” and need using by Sept end. So I give them away, those I don’t use myself, so they don’t get wasted. I forgot to mention, when I described the drive Alan and I enjoyed so much in the early part of May, that that one day was a lovely one, for the next day, Monday the cold, windy and cloudy weather returned, and , as I have previously mentioned, went on and on until last week, and today’s date is August 21st. I did manage to make some raspberry jam in June, but all other soft fruits were very poor indeed. I wonder whether apples, pears, plums will be any better. We will know soon, I hope we can buy Bramley apples, as they are so good and keep until the Spring. Mary (my neighbour) says I have a “few” plums on my little tree. Early ones should be available now. I wonder what their cost will be? It is now September 12th, so it has been several weeks since I last wrote herein. Busy days, and quite a few visitors. I’ve had about 2lb of Victoria plums, but have a glut of apples. I do my best to give them away, as I have so many. Alan has taken many pounds to his friends and up to London, to the many folk who come to his studio, including his “cleaning lady”. They cost so much when people have to buy them in shops, but just here, farmers can’t get a decent price at all - not enough to pay their pickers and still make a profit for themselves! The variety of apples I have on three old trees are all “Grenadiers” and will not keep for winter use at all. I wish I had just one Bramley apple tree. But hope will be able to buy some to put away. Such a useful fruit to have for winter use. October 5th 1978 I’ve got Bramley apples and some for keeping apples from Alan, Bramley’s from Theresa, via Harry! So I am OK for winter fruit now. Monday 6th A very early visit from nurse, who needed a blood sample for my doctor. He has one every 2nd year, to see whether I am anaemic, as I have been on several occasions in my life. I had quite a busy week, one way and another. Several visitors, whom I had not seen for awhile, an oculist, who paid me a private visit at doctor’s request, as I have difficulty in getting to the hospital for a check-up. Have been by ambulance on previous occasions, but this does mean long waiting periods and my very kind doctor realises this and arranged for the specialist to call on me. I felt so very grateful for this kind service. I was able to have a prescription for new ‘specs’ that will give me greater vision in my right eye. Left, alas cannot be helped at all. But I am so fortunate in many other ways, and am deeply thankful for my many blessings. Lately I’ve been writing here in a manner more fitting to a diary! Must try and retrace my thoughts and writing - about other interesting things in my life, and this is likely to be disjointed. As if it isn’t already. I’ve never been a ‘good’ writer, I know I’m very untidy, although I can express myself fairly well, but, as I had precious little schooling, always being kept at home to help mother with her large family. She had eight children, three by my father and five by my stepfather, starting off each time with a daughter and then all the rest were boys, so I had two brothers and four stepbrothers. Being good with children, as soon as I left school (so willingly, for I did like leaving) I was nurse-maid in several families, and certainly took on a lot of responsibility. I remember feeling very proud of the fact that in my first job, where there were six children, (I was 14 years old at the time) I could help the two eldest with their homework, and they went to the local grammar school! I’m afraid they weren’t very bright boys, both were older than I was, and their teacher got a bit suspicious when they got too many right answers for a time. Anyway, I enjoyed helping them, more than doing housework or sewing, etc, etc. Nov 1978 We’ve had a wonderful autumn this year, especially during October. Long sunny days especially warm. But too dry for farmers in many places, for sewing winder corn and so on. My own garden is looking pretty for it. I’ve got plenty of potatoes to see me through the winter and frozen stuff too, but the ground now is hard and dry. Nov 14th today, and so far, no sun, else November, up to now, has also been bright and sunny. Nov 26th A drastic change in temperature after a long dry, and for the most part, sunny, autumn. We awoke to a really hard white frost here, but further north it has been even more wintry. Snow in Scotland, northern England and North Wales. My small bungalow is nice and warm, and yesterday Mary helped me make by bed and we put my electric blanket on, so I guess that will stay there for the next 4 months, or so, a great boon to people like me, keeps quite warm the whole night through. Dec 17th 1978 And Christmas almost here. As usual I am writing here after quite a long break, but I have been busy, one way and another. Lots of letter writing, as usual, a lot of it an “annual” letter to friends and relatives I only see or hear from at this Season. And at my age some more have died, with whom I’ve been in contact with for over half a century. Christmas Day is only one week away. 1979 March Here we are again, well into the third month of 79 and it’s nearly three months since I’ve looked at this journal! Is that a betting description of the things written herein? I seem to have been decidedly lax in telling of events over many years, repeating some things quite unnecessarily. My earliest recollections are of living in Tunbridge Wells, and starting school there, when about five years of age. Tunbridge Wells at that time was a very fashionable inland Spa, famous for its mineral water, and the school I went to was called Murray House School for Girls. But they also taught small boys, as my elder brother started at the same school. We were attending at that school at the time of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, as we were given (my brother Ernest and myself) a very handsome book in commemoration of that event. The covering of the book was of deep red, with gold lettering and it was called “Queen Victoria and Her People”. We, my mother and two brothers and myself then lived at Grecian Road, Tunbridge Wells, not very far from the farm as “Pantiles”. My mother was widowed and I have no remembrance of my father at all. He was serving or had served, in what is now called the Royal Marines, but mother always called the service “The Blue Marines”. I think he must have been away a log, at sea, and in any case, was much older than mother, and died away from home. I imagine at sea! My brother also has no remembrance of him. Later on, I went to Christ Church School. I always liked school very much. When my mother had been widowed for a year or two she met the man who became my stepfather, who seemed a very nice man to us children, until after the marriage, but in a very short time we found him to be exceedingly bad tempered. There was no pleasing him, and of course foremost and I thought it was because we were not his children. This was not the case we all found for he was quite as disagreeable to the five children my mother had by him, my half-sister, Millie and four sons. No memories of a happy home for any of us. Not that he ever hit us. He sneered if we got good school reports, and punished us for bad ones, by taking our books away, and not allowing us to read, or indeed to play together at all. Remembering those days, I know now that he was a very good craftsman. By trade a “Ladies Tailor”, in the days that that generally meant something. One has only to look at old fashion books, in the first decade of this century. The amount of work in any ladies costume, and he worked at home, always. The front room of the house was his workroom, and where his customers came to order whatever they wished him to make for them. He, of course, was very affable and obliging to them and seemed to get plenty of work. I now think that in all probability he suffered from diabetes but little was known of that disease then, and insulin unknown. If he was a diabetic it would account for his very bad temper, probably. He was only 59 when he died. My mother looked years younger when I went to see her shortly afterwards. And, at last, the family was a reasonably happy one, but we still knew what poverty meant. No widow’s pensions and not children’s allowances then, and again my mother had to struggle to feed and clothe her family, her two youngest sons still at school, and next eldest only twelve years of age, left school, as children could do in those days, if they had reached a good standard of learning. So he started work on the railway, as a signal-man-porter!! But he was able to help a little with his small earnings. He studied and later became assistant station master at Waterloo Station, then on to Horsham, as station master there and finally he became station master at Brighton, Hove and Preston and from that quite important post he retired. He decided to do this at the age of 60. As he had a reasonably good pension and was able to afford to retire. My youngest half-brother, Reginald, had to serve in the Army, during the second world war, but worked in the Pay Corps and from there studied for a Civil Service Examination, so was able to enter the Civil Service when demobbed at the end of the war. He is, of course, retired on pension now. All this time I haven’t written anything particular about my dear husband, and our lives together after he retired, at the age of 65. The last year of his working life, we were house hunting! He wanted a bungalow in the country, with a fairly large garden, at as always when seeking a particular kind of dwelling, if the bungalow was alright, the garden was too small, or ordinary amenities, such as main drainage, etc, lacking in one way or another, or the house was entirely heated by electricity, and we were determined to have gas. We also wished to stay in Kent. So we certainly went around that year of 1960. It was such a terribly wet year, also, which was a hindrance. We travelled miles by bus and train and bus, occasionally in a friend’s car. House agents sent no end of what they thought would be suitable. I do remember one such bungalow with large garden that we viewed. Bungalow not very nice, about 30 years old, not well kept, but certainly a large garden, and the proud owner told us there were about a hundred fruit trees in it! George said “I am retiring, not taking on another job of work!” At long last we came to Langley, about 4.5 miles out from Maidstone. An unmade road, with a few detached bungalows and one pair of semi-detached at the curved end of a little close. All new and occupied, but a young couple at one of the semis were anxious to return to their native Yorkshire, and the young man, a schoolteacher, had got a post in his home town and also a house to live, so they were very anxious to sell. The road itself was as yet unmade, and a sea of mud, but we fortunately had overshoes on, and the front gardens had low brick walls at their edges, so we walked up here on top of those little walls. (We had come out from Maidstone by bus, and the bust stop was quite near this little unmade road). However, the bungalow was just right in every respect, but there was a tremendous lot of work to be done, both in front and back gardens. The earth seemed to be all clay, huge clods of it, but George was not at all dismayed about the work that was necessary. We made an offer for the bungalow, which was accepted, and in September 1960, we moved in, and still in rained. Our son John and his wife Edna, came with us and worked as hard as the removal men, not to mention George himself, to carry our furniture and all belongings into our new home. Mess everywhere. Those removal men were lazy and did not come from the firm that George had gone to in Dartford. He knew the owner, and had recommended him to others. However, he let us down badly. He (the removal man) had put the job out to another firm! I cannot remember why, but he was profound in his apologies to us, when we told him how badly the job had been carried out. Which was poor consolation for all the trouble we had had. We reckoned on getting her by mid-day, or soon after, and it was 4 pm by the time we were here, a gas man had been waiting since early afternoon, to connect our gas-stove. It so happened that Edna and I had come on early, by train to Maidstone and then by bus out here. We fortunately had the back door key with us, and having been down a day or two before to hang curtains, etc, had left a small pair of steps here the only thing in the house to sit on until the furniture van arrived, George and John with it! What a day! We had brought out gas stove her in the furniture van, hence the reason the gas man couldn’t get on with his job. And of course, Edna and I couldn’t even heat water to make ourselves a cup of tea, nor the gas man either! As soon as the furniture van arrived and the stove put in place, we had a welcome “cuppa”. And everyone worked hard to help us settle in. But oh, the mud. John and Edna returned to Dartford after helping all they could. Getting our bed put up etc. I’ve mentioned the little road was un-named, so our address for quite a long time was No 6 plot, off Green Lane, Langley Heath. We decided to call out bungalow “Bankside”, as to the left of us in our side way was a very high bank. People next door had named their bungalow “Sandiacre” - well, the soil was the colour if sand, but was just clay and lots of it. (They had an even bigger garden than we have here). So lots of work for George for a year or more! Alan made a plan and suggestions for the garden, which were carried out in due course and eventually the “bank” was levelled off and a big garage put up, as a workshop for George, as we never had a car, but knew a garage would always be an advantage whenever the bungalow is sold at some future date. This village called Langley Heath, obviously grown from what had been a tiny hamlet, but as houses were badly needed everywhere, after the end of the Second World War, and there was plenty of space hereabouts, a quite large council estate had been built here, and a few private houses and bungalows, built here a year or so later. Many more now, and so it is now Langley, and Heath has been dropped from our address. We really enjoyed out new home, George soon got the garden looking nice and in the early 70’s Alan gave him a greenhouse, which proved a great delight to him. He could always enjoy working there, or if the weather or anything else was unsuitable, he had his workshop, fitted with his carpenters bench, tools of all kinds, and woodwork a second hobby, when necessary. He also did all necessary house repairs, re-painting, paper-hanging and so on. He just had to be busy. I had become disabled by osteo-arthritis, and from 1971 quite unable to walk far or even to get on to a bus. George cheerfully did our “Maidstone shopping” by himself then, and managed this quite as well as I could. We had a butcher in a nearby village, who was and still is, very good in bringing any meat we needed, also our milkman could supply some groceries, and a travelling fishmonger still comes once a week, who has greengrocery etc, so no trouble regarding that kind of shopping. After a year or so, George was invited to serve on the Parish Council. I must state here, that when we first moved to Langley Heath, there was only on Councillors for the village. He retired during our first year here, and the council was enlarged to three, a Mr Mitchell being Chairman, and George a Councillor. Mr Mitchell died soon after, quite a young man, and a shock to all of us. So then George was invited to be Chairman of the Parish Council. He was a bit reluctant to accept the post, feeling the he knew too little of such work, but a friend of ours, who then lived in Langley, was a great help to him, and George got books from the local library and studied to find all he could of the duties of his new post. In those days, Langley Heath had no street lighting at all, and as it lies about a mile from a main road, it meant a long, dark walk home, especially during the short days of winter. George therefore set about acquiring some street lighting, suggesting, as a beginning six lamp standards down Horseshoes Lane, that is, from the main road to the village itself. He had leaflets printed and personally delivered them to all Langley residents, inviting them to attend a meeting of the Council to talk about and decide this question of lighting. To his great disappointment only thirteen people attended that meeting. I think residents were afraid of the cost such lamps might put on the rates! George gave his little talk to those who did turn up, his co-councillors being on the platform with him, of course, and he ended by saying I see we have an uneven number of people present, so I will take a vote, as there must be some who are for having the lights and some against, and therefore there must be a decision. This vote was taken and the result was seven for lights and six were against!! And Langley got those lights by that one vote. I always felt pleased that I was among those present, and as I was naturally, for the lights, I felt my vote was the decisive one!! Later on George decided a Gardeners Society would be an asset, and set about getting others interested in that, and it soon began to flourish, its Spring and Summers shows, attracted a good number of entries especially as other home-made products were included, and this has continued over the years. I forget how long George remained as “Chairman” but as the village continued to grow, he decided to ask a younger member of the Council to take his place as “Chairman” and he continued for a few years afterwards to still serve on the Council. In the later sixties and early seventies, my own health was none too good and I had three “major” operations, one in Chatham Hospital and two in Westminster Hospital in London, but have enjoyed good health since, apart from arthritis. But George became ill, first of all with skin cancer, for which he had treatment, which seemed to remedy the trouble for a time, but later he had high blood pressure, and was treated for that condition. (We had and I still have a very good doctor). I became very anxious about his health, but he continued to do shopping, etc, and wanted to keep busy. He even went into Maidstone and did the shopping a few days before his sudden death on June 24th 1973. I tried to persuade him not to go on that last shopping expedition, to no avail. I watched anxiously from our window as soon as I knew his return bus was due here, and watched him come up our little road, striving to walk in his usual jaunty manner, and I was so very thankful to see him safely back again. The following Sunday evening he decided to have a bath before coming to bed, but was so long in the bathroom, and I was seriously worried, but hearing sundry little noises, water splashing, from time to time, tried not to worry him, but when he came out, in pyjamas and dressing gown, I said “I was worried about you, you’ve been such a long time”. He replied “oh, I just thought I would have a good soak”! Later he returned to the bathroom, but then to the kitchen, and I saw he had got some Friars Balsam and a jug of boiling water to which he had added the Balsam, and was using it to try to get his breathing more comfortable. He was gasping for breath, and managed to say “get John”. John was our neighbour but he and his wife had gone to bed, and I could not rouse them. However, my kind neighbour the other side of me had noticed our lights on later than usual, and came in and helped George into our sitting room. He sat down in his chair, and as he did so I know he had died. This was in June 1973, and I’m writing in this ‘journal’ again in July 1979. Six long years ago and I still miss him. We had been married 52 years. I should have re-read the last entry I made in this book, as I have repeated events already recorded. Evidently it is a few weeks since I last wrote here. I’m trying to bring things up to date, as when I come to the last page I intend ending this past record of my long life. I’ve said so little about George, really, yet ours was a happy marriage, especially after his retirement, in 1960. We had had so many separations during his service life, after we married, and when he was recalled just before the outbreak of World War 2, in 1939. We heard from him after about 6 weeks, quite a bundle of letters, all at once. That separation proved longer than any previous ones, exactly three and a half years! It was a good thing that we did not know this at the time. Being a gunnery instructor in the Royal Navy, he was sent to Bombay. His job to train Merchant Seaman in gunnery and attend to the arming of their ships, as it was necessary that they could protect themselves and the freight they carried. He had to train men of all nationalities, mostly by sign language, of course. He was actually in a much safer place than he would have been at sea, or in a home port, as we suffered much damage here in Great Britain and also, in Europe of course. We were living in Dartford all that time, and near a munitions factory. Residents were all supplied with air-raid shelters. We had one in our back garden, but it was so bitterly cold during the winter, I decided we would be sure to get bad colds, if nothing worse, so we came back indoors and slept on the floor downstairs, that being marginally safer than upstairs. A bomb blast dropped the other side of the railway line, which ran past a field at the back of our house, wrenching the doors of our French windows off, and destroying the “black out” which everyone had to make certain was complete. An air-raid wardens post was quite near us, and the wardens voice shouted “Put that light out” before I had time to even reach the light switch!! What days we lived through. On another occasion we had had a heavy fall of snow and another bomb blast lifted the roof tiles so that as the snow melted it was coming through the ceilings everywhere, and I had to find every bucket, basin, pail, jug, saucepan and place about the rooms to catch this water until the roof could be repaired. This was done amazingly quickly really. Armies of workmen got busy as soon as possible. The air raids became fewer and fewer as time went on, and out wonderful Air Force got busy, protecting our costs and all places in danger. After three and a half years, exactly, George returned home from India and had a brief period of leave. Alan (our elder son), was called up for service at this time, and father and son met for a brief time before Alan himself was sent to Bombay, and then on to Ceylon! Our younger boy was too young to serve at this time. After George returned from India, he had a brief spell of work in London, still for the RN of course. He spoke of WRENS that he had to drill whilst there, his ship at that time was HMS Chrysanthemum and later the “President”. After less than one year, he was moved on once more, and sent to Bristol, still doing his same job as gunnery instructor down there. We were both bitterly disappointed over this move, as whilst he was stationed in London, he could come home most nights, but from Bristol he could only come for a occasional weekend leave. What rejoicing everywhere when that awful war ended in 1945. We went to Marlborough, Wilts, for a fortnight’s real holiday and stayed at a very good hotel, full board and lodging for four guineas a week! Things have altered greatly since those days, and not for the better, I’m afraid. A change in our currency came, for one thing, a drastic change it has proved to be, too. Our old pound, a golden sovereign when I was a child was worth 240 pence to a pound. During the First World War, this was changed to ‘paper money’ but still worth 20 shillings or 240 pence to a pound. I can’t remember when this was changed to 100 pence, but it has proved expensive to everybody, prices of all goods keep rising and everything costs at least ten times more, wages have risen certainly, but inflation causes poverty everywhere. We bought our first house (with a mortgage) for £420, and interest rates were 5%. Our second house cost £575 and interest rates on that had risen to 7%, we lived there for 25 years and prices had continued rising and we sold it for £3,250. Now I am told it would sell at £55,000. I think the same people still live there who bought it from us. With that money, we were able to buy this little bungalow for £2,450, and it is nineteen years since we moved here. A similar one was sold about two years ago and advertised at £19,000. 1980 This year Spring and Summer are very reminiscent of the year we moved here, almost twenty years ago. Very cold, but too dry for all spring fruit and vegetables to grow properly. Fruit farmers must feel very depressed. About a week ago, we had such a severe hailstorm, my lawns were quite white. The hailstones also cut holes in young beetroot, etc, I have a fairly large strawberry bed, but for the first time, have had less than one pound of strawberries from it. My neighbour who so kindly keeps it and my front garden tidy, had carefully protected the strawberries from the attention of greedy birds, but, alas there were so few berries to protect, just 3 or 4 at one time! However, my vegetables seem to do quite well. We share its abundant supplies, as their garden, next door is quite small, and too enclosed by neighbours trees. Today is my eighty-ninth birthday. Have received some lovely cards and good wishes, plus presents that will stock my larder for the weeks I do not receive “meals-on-wheels”. Seven weeks holiday for schoolchildren, means no meal service during this time. Something I enjoy very much, as, now that I live alone since my dear mans sudden death just over seven years ago. I do not like the task of cooking, after preparing all the necessary ingredients. However, I still enjoy well-cooked food, so shall just have to potter along and do my best! Alan and Marjorie have bought small tins of various favourites, (savoury for preference) and Mary and Harry gave me a wonderful present of every kind available, of tins, red fruits and all the small sizes most suitable for my needs. Fortunately, I also like milk puddings, rice or tapioca, and a bread and butter pudding now and then, so I think I should manage very well indeed. “Meals-on-wheels” always come twice weekly, Tuesdays and Thursdays, and are beautifully cooked. They come from a school at Bearstead, about 3-4 miles away, and cater for that village and also Leeds and Langley. I feel sure that many old people must appreciate them, as I do. The cost is low, and we couldn’t buy the ingredients even, for the money we are asked to pay, whoever does this cooking is a very good cook indeed. Almost at the end of August now, so only two more weeks before “meals-on-wheels” starts again. I’m looking forward to that very much. So nice not to know what is coming, for one thing, and to eat something I haven’t cooked myself. It was never my favourite household chore, but I do like meals properly cooked, so learned the “art” at an early age. Also through many years, from the early days of our marriage, George and I had many visitors, friends and relatives to spend a holiday, or a long weekend, etc. George brought a set of “Mah-Jong” when he was in China for two and a half years, and taught me to play what is probably a quite simple form of playing that game, but everyone quickly learnt these ‘rules’ and were played day after day, when work was finished and often until midnight or later. Other games also, whist, solo whist, rummy and one we called “Newmarket”, as we had a little gamble when playing that, usually a half-penny. We always enjoyed ourselves, and didn’t lose much even if we lost all the evening! Nowadays my favourite game is Scrabble and Alan and I play it when he comes to see me, also, when Millie can come to stay with me, we enjoy a game. This cannot happen very often, as she is in her 80th year and I’m in my 90th now. The only two girls in our family of eight!! and it so happened our birthdays are just a fortnight apart and in the same month (July). She has lived in Surrey practically all her life, and I’ve lived for most of it in Kent. The first few months of our marriage (George and I) we lived with my mother, a widow, before widows had pensions, so we helped her, by paying her whilst we lived there, and I continued my work, nursing, usually as a midwife, when mother’s would have a trainee nurse for a month. This was quite the rule in those days. It mostly meant you were a cook, house-keeper as well! Now and then a really good ‘case’ came along, when there were servants to do all the work of the house, and I just had to look after my patient and the new baby. Many and varied were the homes I went to but I enjoyed my work at all times.
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