Sweet end to rationing (From Gazette & Herald)

Sweet end to rationing

WHEN it gets to Christmas time, I am somehow always reminded of 1944, when we had a Christmas that never was. Christmas Day we were pushing through Belgium and Holland in sub-zero weather.

No chance of the dinner that we had looked forward to way back in England, and all we managed that December 25 was a mug of tea and a cheese sandwich. It didn't really matter, we were in pretty good spirits. The driving was a bit of a challenge, as most of us were pulling two trailers each and we were in a rush. I recall one village where a young woman was standing at the roadside giving little pastries to each of us as we slowed down for this little unexpected treat, and the villagers stood there in the cold and cheered us on our way. Certainly more exciting than Malton was this year, for we did have our mates with us to chat with when the opportunity arose. The scene this year was one of silence, for in years gone by the street outside was usually one of dads taking their young ones out for a walk, while mum was getting the dinner ready.

Not only taking them for a walk, but escorting the maiden voyage of the new pram, with perhaps also a dolly tucked up inside, and aiding the riding of the new bicycle or trike. None of that this year - not a bike or trike or pram did see. Either I missed them all, or there weren't any. I reckon times have changed, and the youngsters were at home with indoor games, computers and push-button games, etc. Strange how technical advancement changes the way of life, and of life itself. I read that child obesity has now become a serious problem, and I expect the lack of outdoor activity is the main answer.

Back to somewhere in the Ardennes, and having occupied a street village, we had to dig ourselves slit trenches, in the event that we needed to defend ourselves in the night. I managed to find a reasonably soft piece of land - most of it was frozen hard - and managed to get down only a couple of feet or so. It would do. Well, it might have done, except that it had to be used during the early hours, and I jumped in pretty smartish and found myself up to the knees in liquid. I soon realised why the ground was a bit softer than the rest -it was in the lee of a large manure heap. In the dark I hadn't known what it was, so the heap had drained into my trench. It was all fairly pongy until I got dried out, which I don't think was that day.

Back to today, and a call from Mr Fairweather, of Barugh, who tells me he has got himself an electric-powered cycle - now he's almost independent. 12mph, he tells me he does, as he makes his way to Malton and back, which the battery copes with easily. Then it goes on charge for next time. So far, he's had only two runs, having got a slight health problem which has put him off cycling for a while, but he's anxious to get back into it again. Quite thrilled with his bike, he tells me, and, whether winter or summer, I know he'll enjoy that great country ride. Get well soon.

And another owner, Alan Smith, of Kirkby, who I mentioned earlier, is also chuffed with his. After setting off on a ride on his push bike, getting 15 miles from home and wondering how he was going to manage to pedal back again, he was prompted to purchase the electrical model. He considers it money well spent. And a note of optimism in his letter. He tells me that on the days he can see Castle Howard hill from his sitting room at 5pm means the days are getting longer, and that spring is round the corner. Won't be long now!

I mentioned the word 'snoo' last week (past tense of snow) and I spotted another in a reader's letter last week. This time it was 'snuck'. Used in the description of how the family cat sneaked its way in front of the fire. Only it snuck its way! Why of course. Old English? Old Yorkshire? I wonder.

I was reminded, recently, about that day in 1953 when sweet rationing ended. We were living with mum and dad then, and I was despatched on my bike with requests of different sorts. So down to Connie's in Greengate, behind a queue of small boys trying to make their minds up. I can't recall what the family wanted, but I know that my favourite in those days was chocolate toffee, and I would have a quarter of those. That would be all of tuppence! "Would it be possible to have some liquorice allsorts?" I asked of Connie, rather hesitantly, not having been able to buy sweets for umpteen years. "You can have just what you like," she replied. This was music to the ears, and I think it was three bags of sweets which were happily carried home that night to share with the family. Connie's shop seemed back to its usual pre-war displays of sweets of all varieties, and I expect the sweet manufacturers had been working overtime preparing for this day, for all at once there wasn't a shortage any more!

"Marriages are said to be made in heaven, which may be why they don't work here on earth." Thomas Szasz, US psychiatrist, (1920-).

Updated: 11:45 Wednesday, January 28, 2004