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The Path of Fate A Bucket of Money by
The
TaleWagger
The war carried on with its highs and lows. There was a memorable low when one of our fighter planes, piloted by a Canadian, crashed on the railway embankment not far from where I lived. It was shot down by 'friendly fire'. I have never understood the term, as I do not believe that shooting at your allies can ever be classed as a friendly gesture! The village billeted a large number of Canadians and it was as if one of the family had been killed. The whole of the village turned out for a funeral service for him, although he was probably buried in a cemetery nearer his aerodrome. It was a sad time, insignificant in the overall picture of the War but it probably allowed the villagers to communally grieve for all those who were dying in defence of Freedom, and helped to relieve their pent-up emotions. However to me, being a schoolboy, it was just something that happened and I was outside of the emotional scene. In rough winds, barrage balloons often broke away and it always seemed to be more exciting watching the gunners shoot at them than at the enemy aircraft. It was probably because the success rate was far higher! Also, it was great fun chasing after the falling balloon and 'scrounging' pieces of its material. We did not collect souvenirs in those days; everyone had found ingenious ways of making good use of items that were previously thought of as being worthless junk. It was the time of 'Waste not, want not'. Austerity had brought about many changes, directly and indirectly. Whale meat and Snoek were introduced to the unsuspecting public. I still shudder at the thought of eating it. Snoek, often called 'Snake' by the children was equally detested by us kids, although our parents tried to convince us that it was just like salmon. Hopefully, it is now an extinct species! Not only did austerity have its affect on our diet but also it changed the environment. Recreation areas seemed to become vegetable plots over-night and paths, that for centuries had skirted fields, became part of them. One day a lorry came around and removed all the metal chains that hung from fence posts or walls all other forms of metal fencing. Each day, except Saturday, the milkman's horse had his 'fans'. As he slowly made his way through the streets, they followed, not with autograph books but with buckets and spades; organic food production was at its peak during this time. However, on a Saturday they missed out as I collected the proceeds, bagged it up, and stashed it under the float. I was the only wage that I received for a long day of delivering milk and collecting cash. Those who deride having 'to work for peanuts' do not appreciate how well-off they are; at least peanuts do not stink and are edible! Even so there was a list of eager applicants awaiting the time when I would move on to greater things such as paper delivery; a cash job but at that time I was far too young. Still, I had my Sunday morning collection at the pub to tide me over!
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