My mother and my mother in law were both born in 1921 and were female. They had similar working class backgrounds and lived through the Second World War. Their resemblance one to another stops at that point. My mother was born in Birkenhead, Lancashire and lived with her three sisters and one brother in a terraced house. She was the baby of the family and when she was born, Frank, the eldest, was already 15. Her father was a butcher and her mother was a cook. When the War started, she was evacuated into the countryside: she missed her family and the city and was only away a month. She came back home and was then sent to Bletchley to do ‘something with wiring’. She was away a month there too and came back to find a job in the NAAFI which was much more her style. Mum loved being the centre of attention and enjoyed her War to a large extent. Dances, dying legs with coffee dregs and drawing a line on the calves to simulate real stockings, peroxide, exciting US soldiers (two of her sisters became GI brides), makeup and clothes.
Sunday 8 March 2015
Sunny with light breeze
6 degrees to rising to 15
International Women’s Day
Woke up excited at the prospect of a visit on our big rental unit. OH still muttering and cocooned in his sheet wrap so I went down town alone and ran around, opening windows and then closing them because I could hear the gypsies down the street, shouting and banging about. I put on lights in the darker rooms and turned on the radiators in chilly corners. At 10 am I was on guard at the front door. Mr L was on time – petite and Vietnamese – he bounced up the 42 stairs with great ease. We did the tour and he was smiling – always a good sign – and was taken with the large rooms and how light they all are. He took lots of photos and said he might…
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