Darkening Days

         The years leading up to World War II were not all dark, I must say – my neighbours often gathered in Dougie Dadson’s shop and listened to the wireless news on the BBC.  We heard all about the doings of the Prince of Wales as he was sent around the Empire to show the flag.  He was very popular and handsome, so different from his parents, the dignified, unsmiling king and queen.  We also heard news of the Duke and Duchess of York, who also toured for the crown.  In the Illustrated London News photos the duke was a shy-looking pale reflection of his prince charming brother, but his beautiful and poised wife and little daughters made them a happy looking foursome. 

         I will never forget how shocked we were when the King abdicated so soon after his father died.   That was when we learned how he wanted to marry an American divorcee.  It seemed like such a desertion of his country then, and still does, I suppose.  However, we would not have had the bravery of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth to lead us through the war, nor the experience of having their daughter as our Queen.

         I don’t believe anyone in our county made such use of the newspapers as the people in our lane did.  We waited for the day-old paper brought home by Mrs. Ames, who charred for the town council offices, then passed it down the line.  I always asked for it last, so I could use it to line my canary’s cage after reading.  (“Dickie” was given to me by Len in a burst of generosity when we were first married, and since then I have always had a canary with me, for company.)

         The newspaper became my way of finding out what was happening in the world.  The Spanish Civil War was just the start.  Once Hitler had begun his occupations and annexing of this and that it began to become clear it wasn’t going to be easy to stop him and his Nazis.  Looking back at it all though, I think we were not told very much about what went on behind the headlines – the frustrated negotiations by various politicians were things we only had vague notions of in our little village.  I began to worry about my boy, wayward though he was.  He was just becoming old enough to go to war.  I should have worried about my daughter instead!