These letters belong to my aunt Joan Punter ( nee Toller ). These contain interesting home front information and political views of the war. They were written by my Great Aunt Marie to her husband George Cruden. ( both now deceased. )

In several of these letter Marie refers to George as Peter Precious- as she was a Catholic from Ireland and didn't want to introduce him to her family as George ( the English kings name ) she called him Peter.


Nov 12/1944 138 Harrow Road Wallaton Park

My Dearest & Best x
Oh, what an awful day! I hope you had a good journey yesterday & will have a better one than last on your way home tonight. Its bitterly cold today & raining hard. Well. I haven’t filed in any of the cards I have but will leave you to take your choice of cards for myself & Gidd & Bert, also for mother, & the family & I will send to my own ones. Don’t bother about dolls, you boy- I’ve got a couple — Haby Dept had a delivery of a dozen ( a prize delivery they call it ) so I was just lucky in getting one —10/= but its got a china face; not too badly dressed as things go today, so that’s that- but honestly they have had some lovely toys in their few years as children…. Kids little picture books are a price too. By the way, I went to the best bookshop here yesterday for ‘The Wind in the Willows’ by Kenneth Graham; they told me it is out of issue, no further publications are promised, so our luck is out there, as you say, she is so advanced in her reading that a small girls book wouldn’t seem to fit her. Still it is possible there may be an odd copy somewhere about, so you could perhaps enquire at one or two of the big bookshops your way. Here is list of my collection- 3 fancy boxes, stationary ( not super, but still paper & envelopes in a fancy box, 5 writing pens- 2 this size paper & three the small popular size. Hairnets & Grips & I’ll see about some combs- but are there those nice black ones about that you used to get? I know combs are awfully scarce, anyway- some face powder- & by the way that Lexicon game would be appreciated by Russ & Ivy I reckons. What about some Brilliantine? Brycream you could pass to one of them. They look as if they will have to be wartime parcel of bits & pieces- but the value wont exactly be cheap.
I’ll send the pencil box to Val for her birthday- with some nice color crayons to fill it up. What about you sending a 2/6 Postal Order- to buy something it will cost you more & she will do well from us all. Wish the Blinkin’ coupons system wasn’t so megre- theres quite a lot I’d like to do!!! By the way I shouldn’t tell your chaps how often you get home now, otherwise the luck of the draw will not come your way; when have your passes to go through? Went to see ‘Song of Bernadette’ again yesterday- & enjoyed it- Ger?y was quite impressed too. In a letter from Gerald? Last week she asked me to pass on all my old gloves, they would still do her for cleaning the grate & coal carrying. She little knows the fuss I’ve got to make of my gloves these days, let alone pass ‘em on for stoves!! Them days are over aren’t they? Gosh talk about gloves, I came across a list which you had made out quite seven or eight years ago- & the geol..ding always had gloves & chocolates- Oh! Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a 2lb box of Lafontes now!!! Well, theres one thought- we appreciated them when we got them- what about the box I kept one year- until my birthday they would last that long now. Never mind dear the good times together again are not far distant we hope, & I hope hard times will never come back- we neeent work at all, & I still get paid for doing that sounds alright on paper- but in practice I bet they’ll be some shocks. Well, cheerio love, hope you had a nice weekend. Don’t leave that bedroom untidy will you? Cheerio for now xxx All my love & thoughts your own loving wife x Marie x

These letters belong to my aunt Joan Punter ( nee Toller ). These contain interesting home front information and political views of the war. They were written by my Great Aunt Marie to her husband George Cruden. ( both now deceased. )

In several of these letter Marie refers to George as Peter Precious- as she was a Catholic from Ireland and didn't want to introduce him to her family as George ( the English kings name ) she called him Peter.



Boxing Day [ Cambridge ]

My Own Dearest & Best x
Well, here we are — another Xmas passed & we have had a most happy day but one & all were sorry that you were not with us- & of course theres no need to add what I felt & for you to say what you felt- but the fact was that we all had our drinks at 1.30 sharp- in the middle of cutting up the turkey & we one & all drank to you first & we hope that you were able to get a quite minute to do the same with us. We had plenty of drink & the turkey was just lovely. 15lbs. & the plum pudding mum was delighted with the rum you sent. Thanks were so for your Xmas card darling, it was lovely. By the way we had a large size egg flip & guzzled the lot in 2 sittings you boy.
Con [ Georges sister ] had her Xmas tree & it was larger that she has had other years, but the trouble was to get stuff to put on it anyway we didn’t do so bad. Your number was 6 & mine 10. I got a little old parcel tied up with a bootlace, no bigger than a finger nail- & caused some shrieks by its very size anyway, I opened it & what? A blinkin’ penny & two back studs!! Well I couldn’t resist seeing what you had & found three toffees & 2 cigs. Bill [ George’s brother] got a beautiful pink cushion cover, Ivy a brooch, Con some stocking mending silk, others got some bars of chocolate. Con had some candles on the tree & we outed the light & lit it up & Val [ Con’s daughter ] gave us the prizes she was terribly thrilled with that while we all sat round eyes & mouths wide open in anticipation we then played Newmarket & Brown Anchor& Con won 10/- after 2 hrs play. Then we had some music & my heavens what a row!! We just took it out of the piano me- but old Ivy & Russ had a few drinks & were a proper couple of coons- I laughed ( with the rest of course )- till I felt really sappy but you’d have laughed “fit to kill” if you’d have heard ‘em anyway, we turned in at 2o/c am. I got that song called “Yours” so we have had our bobsworth out of that already. Well, darling x have just had a Guiness & wished you everything of the best & only wishing with all my heart you were with us. X Have you been busy helping the other blokes to drinks? Did you have a party after all? Its bitterly cold today but we are warm & comfortable & my word thanks to mother, you wouldn’t think there was a war on. But theres simply no drink to be brought. Well sweetheart, its now dinnertime, good old roast beef of old England & horseradish! Lovely! Well cheerio sweetheart this is just to let you see I’m thinking of you in spite of all this pleasure & noise. Russel [George’s brother] is not going back until Sunday, so if you get this in time you will know he is not about until then. I shall D.V. be going back on that 5.15…. Russel didn’t get in until 9.30 when he left you, so you see how late trains are. Well, cheerio sweetheart all love xxxx love & always xxx Marie xxx

These letters belong to my aunt Joan Punter ( nee Toller ). These contain interesting home front information and political views of the war. They were written by my Great Aunt Marie to her husband George Cruden. ( both now deceased. )

In several of these letter Marie refers to George as Peter Precious- as she was a Catholic from Ireland and didn't want to introduce him to her family as George ( the English kings name ) she called him Peter.

Wednesday Nov 15/1944 [written from Nottingham]

My Dearest x
I forgot to mention yesterday not to worry about a wrist watch strap as I got one on Saturday at Boots for 1/9. Its another like the leather one you got me at Cambridge- so if this wears as well it will be OK- because it’s the cheapest I’ve seen, anyway. I had a letter from mother this morning- & she tells me Con is expecting again.. Well I hope the jag in your hand has healed up alright- I always remembered to ask, as soon as I had posted your letter!!! Barbara is not coming to Nottingham after all with Nicolas- so they are a bit disappointed about it. Isn’t the weather awful- nothing but rain- & now its so cold with it. Had a letter from the old boss yesterday- he seems to be Ok in health but seems to have trouble with an ill-fitting artificial limb. The paratroops are all clearing out from W.P. now, so expect theres something due. We hear the Hall is to be an Officers Convalescent place. Well darling, I don’t seem to have much to say- but hope you are OK & things are going will with you. All my love as always your Own loving wiff xxx Marie xxx

Monday ( whit ) May 21/1945 letter 3 [Cambridge]
My dearest & Best x
Have taken Cons letters to the hospital this am, & we’ve just had our dinner- was going to take the kids on the rec: but its turning with rain again- proper thunder showers- so thought I’d write a few lines. We had a nice time together last night. Plenty to drink & they all got merry; old Ivy is a scream when she has had a few- she kept us in fits- & on top of that she goes home in the middle of it all, comes back with a basin of what looked like beaten eggs- plus the egg beater, & made us all beat it up like juice & when we all wanted to know what it was in aid of, she told us it was egg flip! 4 eggs, gin, brandy & port- & my goodness — it was lovely!! Wish you could have some- Arthur made me laugh to kill myself!! His soppy grin & then he says- drunken rabble- take ‘em away- bring me dancing girls- then she started doing the can-can with the egg beater as castanets- I thought I should have collapsed! It was damn funny- but it bucked mother up no end- I’m going back tomorrow afternoon, as I have an appointment for my hair Wed: morning, so must get back. I wanted mum to come to the pictures but she didn’t feel up to it and said with this bronchitis she dare not go far- & as the sun has come out we’re off to the Rec! Cheerio my love, they’re waiting, Aunt Phobe has called & sends her love to you all my love, as always your Own loving wife Marie xxx

Leter21. April 26th 1945 138 Harrow Road Wollaton Park Nottingham

My dearest Precious, x,
I’m typing these few lines. I can’t seem to sandwich time in during the day to write to you, and I find this is quicker. I’m answering two letters in this one, one of them from you in the “blue envelope” and the other written on Salvation Army paper. It is only natural you’d lose track of what letters are about because of the long transit, yours taking four days to reach me, and I expect mine to you take about a couple of days- but getting my replies in their sequence, I think you’ll find I comment on most things you write about. Anyway, I’m answering the blue envelope one now first. I only get the chocolate once a month, so I can’t send you much in any case, and I send it in case you don’t get a change of diet much, or feel like a nibble when you are out for a stroll. I only like milk chocolate really like those Cadbury’s you used to give me, so my sending the plain chocolate is not really generosity is it? You would have liked the shawl I sent Con it was a nice one only a few pence short of 9/- - and she certainly seemed pleased with it. No I don’t think I’m paying a good bit of I.T, on the 212 pound a year, as it works out at about 6 pound on the year- but that is actually up to date, although I suppose I shall shortly be receiving a new Code Form, and hope the number wont be changed. Well. I put 10 pound in the P.O. just before Easter, and now saving for my holidays, which I shall make the last big splash for the year. Anyway, going down to Gidd will no involve a lot of extra spending, not in the drink line anyway, because they only indulge in one, and then only shandy or cyder- but of course with Ann being there now, it may have even altered that habit. D.V. I’ll try and get to Buckfast again, if the buses run there- the last time I was in Paignton, there were no long distant buses, but rumour has it there are many more cars to be put on the road- by more petrol becoming available.. Then I can keep a little spare cash handy for inclusion in the old tin box. By the way dear, while I guessed perfume would be expensive, I had no idea when I asked you to get some that it was so dear as it is- better cut that lark out anyway, as I reckon it left you pretty broke after that purchase. If you’ve got to pay tax, well, I guess it’s better to wait until you get home again, because after all they will surely allow you to come home with as much stuff as “ presents” I see that you are due for your 48hours in Paris from to-day, so hope you will have a nice trip, but don’t run into any more trouble with yanks and revolters and things, will you? No, in your reply to your letter of the 19th written in the S.Army- I’m glad you got the other cigarettes. I intend to send them all service rates duty free, but what with the Cooks lot not arriving, and possibly being stolen ( which they nearly were ) I sent you a big batch to start you off. Then mother got worried too in case you hadn’t any fags, so that was her contribution- sent you in the towel. You should be getting another 200 Churchmans in the course of the next week, and that will be the last lot I have ordered for you, so when you get them everything will be in order, and you will be set up for a little while in smokes. Don’t worry about soap- if you want some, tell me, and I’ll send you a tablet. The position as regards soap is this. There are four points allowed on the ration book for soap washing powders, etc. Mrs Wilde takes two for doing my washing, and I take the other two for soap, which is two for a big bar and/or 1 each for two smaller ones. With the soap you kindly collected for me when at Kettering, it put me “into fund” therefore I can easily spare you a bar each month from my current allowance. See?? So don’t forget to ask for it, love. By the way have you any use for soap flakes IF I can get hold of any for my ration? Will it help any, because I can soon find a tin to pack some into! I’m going to crochet myself some gloves in fine white string- I have seen some, and examined them, and am sure I could make a pair if I tried Don’t write to Rotherhams- love. Yes, it’s a fact that the German prisoners are getting the same food ration as our fighting men- I can’t think what the heck our authorities are about what with trying to feed Europe, our armies and navies, etc, this lot of islands seems to be a well of everything but there’s such an outcry about it that I think that are “thinking” about lowering it. Well for my part I’d swop my job any day at the present time for the lot of the prisoners in Wollaton Park- this lovely sunny weather, in beautiful surroundings, and no work to do but just laze around- its scandalous. We will be sending back to Germany a few thousands of full healthy men, while our own boys coming back are diseased and half starved- we’ve had the gloves on too long, and the terrible things which are coming to light in these Concentration camps beats even the wildest imagination- talk about Jules Verne in the 20th century it’s fantastic- the swine they are- they should have the life as a nation crushed out of them for centuries, and never be allowed to rise again after such fiendish treatment of those under them. I only hope they’ll get the gang of them, and shoot them without mercy- they should not be allowed a fair trial, but just a drumhead trail, and shoot summarily, I had a letter from mother yesterday. She says they all enjoyed themselves at Joan’s party, and also mentioned that Arthur was going home this weekend, and having another birthday party; I somehow thought that he wouldn't let that occasion pass without having another “do”, in spite of the fact that Vi’s birthday and his were to be celebrated jointly. Mother also mentioned that Mrs Bavister died a week aho to-day and was cremated at Huntingdon on Saturday. I expect she will be telling you in her letter. I’m sorry I didn’t go across to see the poor thing at Easter- although Mother mentioned that she didn’t think then she was long for this world. Well springcleaning is now finished, and of course everywhere looks spick and span- but Mrs Wilde got a letter from her sister yesterday saying that she could not say when she would come, as her husband was still to unwell to travel. Mrs Wilde said that she wasn’t going to be messed about, as if there was a chance of getting away while I was on holiday, she wanted to have a change. Well, seeing that she hasn’t had a holiday since we’ve been up here, I guess she needs it. So she’s written off to Worthing Town Hall to get some addresses where she is likely to stay. Well, don’t you think this incident is a bit of darned sauce on Guy’s part. When she went home , she had the last lot of her luggage sent home through the Firm by passenger train. Well, on the day she left Beale didn’t know the cost, so she said well, I would pay what was due and settle with me. Well, it came to five bob, so I paid up and looked big, and blow me she’s been gone a month, and never sent me the cash!!!!!!! I honestly didn’t think she’d serve me like that- whether I want it or not at once, it’s a matter of principle I think. Mrs Wilde had to write and ask herto return the street door key, which she did in a registered envelope, but never put my five bob in it too and got out of that debt!!! I should have thought her thrifty mind would have worked that out before hand, and so saved poundage on the P.O. WHEN she deigns to send it to me. I think it’s the best bit of sauce I’ve had for years- because if she was hard up, I wouldn’t think any more about it until she could manage to pay, but being the mean thing she is, it’s made me really downright wild. After the rain we’ve had it’s turned very cold but I hope that it will be warmer on Saturday when I am selling flags. Jerry sounds as though he’s “copping a packet” in Berlin jut now- what a hell of a place it must be- but serve them right, every inch of the way- the Russians will take their gloves off, and hold no brief and give them everything they’ve got, - but they are so sadistic they’ll die in the resistance of such an onslaught. Glad to say I’m feeling much better again now, that pain in my hip has gone away, and I’m sleeping better. I hope you continue to keep alright dear. Take care of yourself won’t you? Bill Cox has been in the house this week , paid for my lunch one day, and comes and sits besides me every other day he’s here. He hoped I didn’t mind, but he was on his own, and so… someone said we looked nice walking down together in Houndsgate, and the others in the office tell me they won’t split to you!!!!!! Well, my love , I think I’ve said all I can think about just now, so will get this posted to you, and hope you have a nice leave. Would be nice if I could hop over to see you wouldn’t it- or better still if you could hop over’ere! Never mind, heres looking forward to July. All my love and thoughts, dear, ever and always, your own loving, MARIE x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

PART 2

Another big influence on us was home-grown vegetables and fruit. Everyone kept allotments the (dig for victory) and if everything else was on ration we could at least live on fresh produce, so many hours were spent with our cousin, Christine [Christine Cash, nee Broom, Bill Broom’s daughter] helping bring home potatoes, carrots, onions, green veg, whatever you could grow we did and everything tasted so much different to nowadays supermarket stuff. Strawberries, asparagus, runner beans and peas were nothing like nowadays tasteless objects. Uncle Bill also kept hens and pigs, so it was something like a farmyard up Histon Road there, through the passage in Windsor Road. Auntie Hilda [Hilda Broom – Bill’s wife, Christine’s mother] plodded up there everyday carrying two buckets of pig ‘swill’ that Gran had boiled up on the gas stove.

 

We were accustomed to watching hens having their necks wrung when they were ready for the pot. We helped pluck the feathers off them and I actually held them upside-down by their feet till they stopped fluttering (when they were dead they fluttered for a bit before they finally went still). Children accept these things as a normal part of life, but Uncle Bill used to laugh and say I was ‘bloodthirsty’. (perhaps that is why I’ve never been afraid of blood or gory sights in my work in the hospital!)

 

Val and I were quite different in temperament as young children. She was the quiet, thoughtful and studious one; whereas I was outgoing, noisy, assertive and a dare-devil. She smiled sweetly and spoke quietly – I tended to shout and ‘lark around’ a lot. When dad came home in 1945 he quickly sorted me out and I received the discipline he thought I needed – but I always had Gran and Bill on my side and I distinctively remember Bill’s voice saying “Come on my little old sugar plum, over the road with your granny and me.” I loved Uncle Bill, and I thought him handsome with his black wavy Brylcreamed hair and twinkling blue eyes; also a real softie. He would have tears in his eyes whenever something upset him (or through laughing) and Christine was his pride and joy. If he wouldn’t let anyone hurt one hair on my head, you can imagine what he was like with her.

 

Ivy and Russ were also a big influence on our lives when they lived with us after their marriage during the war. I could snuggle up with them in their bed any morning I liked, they played with me all the time, and I even ate of Russ’es plate, pinching his spouts.

 

When I think of those poor girls, single parents, living in an upstairs flat with babies, also toddlers having nowhere to run around in a garden, driving their mothers into depression I realise how lucky we were to be born when family was everything, stayed together to build a secure and loving home, and it was rare to see a woman struggling on her own without the father and relations nearby to ease the burden. They never gave up on parenthood, they learned the skills to make it work, and had confidence through it for their children’s sake. They didn’t have to learn it from TV or a book. It was commonsense; and a joy, not a burden. Kids were always happy.

 

When I was quite young my Gran acquainted me with the verse in the Bible that goes “Suffer the little children to come unto me, for such is the Kingdom of Heaven”. It always stuck in my mind. Children were something, not only innocent, but almost sacred. If anyone harmed them physically or emotionally, they were in danger of hell fire!

 

When I was 11 I passed the scholarship (pre-11 plus exam) and had a choice of the Perse or the County Girls School, so I chose to go with Val to the newly built County Girls High School. It was an excellent school, brilliant teachers (called mistresses!) and I was in the top grade ‘A’ class. I have to admit that being with those brainy girls was demanding, and I struggled to keep up when I was 13-14, mostly because we had hours and hours of homework, and Bet and I had discovered boys, so spent a lot of evenings on Histon Road Rec and Jesus Green swimming pool. We both lliked the same boys so sometimes swapped! I looked a lot older than I was with massive boobs, and I wore uplift bras with tight sweaters, and a pair of real American tight jeans given to me by American friends when their dad was sent back by the U.S.A.F. to Minnesota!

 

Dad was always on my case to stop my fun and games with the boys, and when we moved to Netherhall way I was 14, and I was only allowed to go to St Paul’s Church to meet ‘good’ friends (not common ones from Akeman Street as mum used to say!) So I got quite religious going everywhere with Val, and Den Beales got fed up biking across town to see me. So I got a new boyfriend called Brian Stalley, a County [school] boy 2 years older than me. He was a decent boy, played cricket, studied hard at school; so unlike my naughty friends. I had new friends too like Sadie, who was homeless and lived in a hostel; I sang in St Pauls choir and helped in other organisations, taught in Sunday School, worked for the Sudan United Mission, and after getting my five O Levels I got a job in University of Cambridge Exams Syndicate up Mill Lane as an examinations clerk preparing question papers for Press. (near dad at the Cambridge University Press opposite).

 

It was about then, 16 years of age that I decided to do nursing training when I reached 18 with views to working in Africa with the S.U.M. Everything was arranged, my interview at Addenbrookes and I was accepted to start at 18.  Everything went pear shaped when I met Mike (Michael Brown) at 17 and a half. He was 24, just back at U.C.L.E.S from his National Service in Malaya – fit, tanned, crew-cut hair, footballer, beer drinker, I fell in love! We got together at the University Ass. Club Xmas 1957, and everything went to the wall – Africa, Church, friends etc. Dad was in the R.A.M.C [Royal Army Medical Corps] with Frank Brown, so Mick was IN! However, I started my nursing training as planned and although I found it clashed horribly with any social life with Mick I stuck it out till the P.T.S. exam (which I passed very well) so kept going til six months was almost up, then I realised that marriage was out for a nurse (in those days you had to be Florence Nightingale) I talked to the Matron, who had no time for thoughts of boyfriends, marriage was forbidden, even engagements were kept secret. I was up in Hatton Ward sluice with the bedpan round while Mick lived it up on a Saturday night with his mates (and girls from work) so I gave in my notice. I knew I would go back into nursing one day, buut NOT NOW! They took me back in the Annexe as before, I got my sapphire and diamond engagement ring and looking back I was stupid because had I stuck it out, instead of romance I could have qualified, got married and still had Christopher [Chris Brown] in 1962! I changed, chameleon like, and in the fashions of the fifties wore pencil slim or very flared skirts, 4 and half inch stiletto heels, permed hair and smoked with a long cigarette holder. Every weekend Mick and I went dancing with our many friends, or up the Old Spring in Chesterton Road. Saturday afternoons were football or cricket as he played for the N.C.I., Central Old Boys, Cambridge University Press. I used to score for cricket and if it was a village match we had lovely teas laid out in the Church hall. This life went on for three years till I had Christopher at twenty three. I stopped smoking and drinking!

Written by Joan Punter (nee Toller) – my aunt – transcribed by Michelle Bullivant Dec 2010