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
As written by my aunt Val Burroughs, March 2005.
Living with the horrors of war
Very early on in the war my father nearly lost his life. He was running across the battlefield with German planes overhead. Apparantly he could see a pilot shaking his fist. He dropped his mouth-organ and his prayer book, but, prayed "Lord, let me get home to my wife and children." He did.
I remember my mother and auntie watching the distant sky to the south of my back bedroom window. My auntie was crying as she dreaded the bombs were hitting Linton ( her home village ) as the sky was lit up in that direction. During night-time air raids the wardens would tell my mother to get inside my granny's house as she would look out of the front door to look out for planes. During day time raids, I remember my gran and mum heaping furniture as a shelter over me e.g. the settee tipped back to reach the piano with me underneath. At night we sometimes slept under the " shelter table" a heavy duty metal table in the living room, with caged sides. Sometimes we would shelter in the cuboard under the stairs where my toys were kept, I don't recall being frightened.
One day my mother was taking us out for a walk, pushing the pram along Madingly Road, when a truck driver asked her the way to the American cemetery, he told us he had a "load of guys on board."
One of my friends, who lived at the back of our house, in Richmond Road, Eileen, lost her father when he became ill with beriberi through deficiencies in his diet out in a foreign country where he was in active service.
Uncle Bill was in the fire service, so was in the front line when it came to dealing withbombing raids. Once, when driving fast he was convicted of speeding! Even fire engines had restrictions put upon them.
Of course, it was damaging to family life to have husbands and fathers away for six years. We hardly knew our fathers when they came back. I remember my mother cleaning and polishing the house and making herself look pretty when my father was coming home on leave. Then when his leave came to an end, there was always the sadness of parting. I would stand at the door with my nanna, my fathers mother, and watch mum and dad walk up Oxford Road. We never knew if he would return, of course. The telegraph boy, on his motorbike, was an unwelcome visitor to our road. He might be delivering a telegram of congratulation or good wishes, on the other hand, he might be on a sinister errand with the news that a loved one had died in active service.
I remember the day men arrived to remove our house railings from the front garden. I watched them at their devastating work of taking every bit of iron to build tanks or amunition. Those railings were never replaced.
Val Burroughs ( nee Toller )
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