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The Path of Fate Shelters mushroom. by
The
TaleWagger
To protect the civilian population in the areas where they had gardens, the Government came up with the idea of Nissen huts. My father, probably brainwashed by them into thinking that bombs only fell on houses and never on huts in their backgardens, duly conformed. With the motto of 'Dig for Victory' on all the walls and people's lips, we decided to 'Dig for safety' as well. Soon, we had done something the enemy never managed to do we had made a crater in our lawn! It was about four-foot deep and we lined it with old planks of wood and cardboard to insulate it from the cold and damp. We then fitted a curved, corrugated-steel roof and covered it with soil and the turves that we had removed from the lawn. Each night, when the air-raid siren sounded, we quickly put clothes over our nightwear, grabbed some blankets, and rushed into the safety of our dark, dank, musty sanctuary. We huddled together and lost hours of precious sleep as we waited for the 'all-clear' from the siren sound. This would allow us to return to the relative comfort of our now-cold beds. Fortunately, after a few weeks that seemed years, my parents, like a lot of others, realised the futility of this exercise and it was abandoned. From then on, when the sirens sounded and the bombers droned overhead, we sought protection by staying in the warmth of our beds and pulling the blankets up. Meanwhile the Nissen hut was converted to producing mushrooms, storing vegetables and become a worthy example of how to adapt an item, intended as a useful implement of War, to a even more useful purpose. Another example of adapting and improving, though of a more frivolous nature, was the Thursday evening 'dinner party'. With food being in short supply it was decided that it was essential that 'the poor people' received at least one good cooked meal a week. Organisations such as the Women's Voluntary Service, were enrolled to help with this project. With Friday being a virtually-nationwide payday, on a Thursday money was often in short supply and this was the day chosen for 'feast'. Not far from where my father worked in the local Power Station was a small recreation field, most of which had been converted to allotments. In the remainder a lage marquee had been erected and for most of the time, it was used as a canteen for soldiers in the area, or as a refreshment-point for convoys passing through. However, in the late afternoon of each Thursday, after the soldiers had eaten, the WVS took over and prepared a meal for any civilian who wanted one. You could turn up after work, from 6pm onwards, and, for a token amount, you could buy a sit-down meal. This became a weekly treat for me, and possibly had a greater effect on my young life than I realised at the time. On that day, I would cross the railway bridge into the next village to meet my dad after he finished his twelve-hour shift and then we would 'dine out'. I cannot remember the food being of a notable standard but the occasion was always something special. However, this was where the adaption and improvement came in; the resource locals added live entertainment and it became our night-club! Every week, during and after the meal, there was a sing-along to the accompliment of some musical instruments; I cannot remember which ones. For me however, the highlight was the impromptu acts by the amateur comedians. Individuals among the diners, any Tom, Dick, or Harry, would stand up and tell jokes between the songs, or in the intervals between the courses. Some met with differing amounts of laughter, others with catcalls, boos, or occasionally silence. As the audience was mostly male adults, virtually all the jokes were sexually suggestive or downright dirty. Being there was a special privilege for me, a youngster, and I had to swear to my dad that I would not let my mother know that this part went on. I enjoyed the jokes that I could understand, but I soon learned that those were not the important ones! I soon became adept at remembering the ones that I could not understand, but were raptuously applauded by the audience. It helped to give me an revered status with my mates at school; especially the older ones, as they were astounded at, and envious of, the number of 'dirty' jokes that I could tell. It was a unique way of being everybody's friend and I cannot remember any instances of being bullied at that school, or even in the village.
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