So we think we have it hard—Tricia McGill

Find all my books on my BWL author page

For my next book, I have been researching London during WW11, specifically around 1940. This got me thinking about how it compares to what we are experiencing around the world right now with restrictions placed on our normal routines. Rationing in London continued until 1958 and I can still recall my mother sitting in the chair with her ration books in front of her and a worried frown on her face. How she coped with feeding her large family I will never know. I do remember that one sister who worked in a factory would sometimes come home with sugar that she had purchased on the ‘black market’. As a child, I had little idea of the meaning of all this as, being the youngest and spoilt, I was well fed and at times even had butter on my bread and not margarine, but that was after the war had ended. Add to this our Mother’s worry over the three of her sons serving overseas in the armed forces. Thankfully, they all came home.

The government introduced rationing as a means of ensuring the fair distribution of food and commodities and began at the start of the war with petrol. By January 1940 bacon, butter and sugar were rationed, and by 1942 many other foodstuffs.

A typical weekly ration of food for an adult would consist of:

4 ounces of Bacon & Ham 

Other meat to the value of 1 shilling and 2 pence (equivalent to 2 chops)

2 ounces of Butter              

2 ounces of Cheese                  

4 ounces of Margarine 

4 ounces of Cooking fat   

3 pints of Milk     

8 ounces Sugar    

1 pound of preserves every 2 months. (I guess this was why my mother often asked the grocer for sugar instead of her jam ration)

2 ounces of Tea         

1 fresh Egg (plus allowance of dried egg)

12 ounces of Sweets every 4 weeks.

Thanks to: https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/Rationing-in-World-War-Two/

After the fiasco of people rushing out to purchase ridiculous amounts of toilet paper at the outset of the pandemic, (I am still trying to work out just why that idiot started the stampede) I got to thinking about how people coped during the war years in that department. One of the first things some of the older generation that I spoke to said in response to this was, “We had to manage with newspaper—how would they like that?” This was cut into squares, which would then hang on a hook in the little room. Some lucky people even managed to acquire tissue paper.

Two of my sisters were married in 1946 and even then they had to buy the fabric for their dresses using their allowance from their ration books. Fruit and some vegetables were in short supply and many people grew their own. If someone heard that a delivery of say oranges had arrived at the greengrocers then the women would rush to get on the mile long queue to wait for their share.

So you see, we may complain that we cannot get to hug our loved ones, but there is a light at the end of this current tunnel and soon you can welcome home your children and grandchildren. We have online shopping where we can still order to our hearts content and have it dropped off at our door. We have our trusty phones and can keep in touch with our family and friends and even chat face to face with them.

Funnies are flying back and forth each day. Here are some of my favourites:

I am starting to understand why pets try to run out of the house when the door opens.

Does anyone know if we can take showers yet or should we just keep washing our hands??

I’m so excited; it’s time to take the garbage out. I wonder what I should wear? 

You think it’s bad now? In 20 years our country will be run by people home schooled by day drinkers… 

Day 7 at home and the dog is looking at me like, “See? This is why I chew the furniture.” 

My Mom always told me I wouldn’t accomplish anything by laying in the bed all day, but look at me now! I’m saving the world...! 

I swear my fridge just said: “what the hell do you want now?” 

Coronavirus has turned us all into dogs. We roam the house all day looking for food.  

If anyone owes you money, go to their house now. They should be home... 

I’m giving up drinking for a month. Sorry, punctuation typo... 

I’m giving up. Drinking for a month.

Stay safe, and always look on the brighter side of life.

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The Ultimate Challenge...by Sheila Claydon

One of the important characters in my book Remembering Rose is an elderly woman, a grandmother, who uses a wheelchair and who is on the downward journey towards dementia. She has chosen to spend her final days in a care home despite having a large and loving family.

...so in the end she went into a nursing home. For the first week we thought she'd be heartbroken and we all felt guilty, but she took to it like a duck to water. Within days she seemed to have forgotten she had ever lived anywhere else, and Hester, who has always been the bossy one, set up a family visiting rota, so that rarely a day goes by without one or other of us calling in to see her.  She likes that, mainly because we take her chocolate biscuits and wine. Even at ninety-four years old she is still partial to a glass of chardonnay at six o'clock.

Not everything about this old lady is a figment of my imagination. A ninety-three year old friend, who has recently died, checked herself into a care home when she no longer felt able to manage alone. She had daughters who loved her and would have cared for her to the end but she wouldn't let them. She had no intention of being a burden to anyone, least of all herself. Instead she downsized her life but not the way she lived it. She still socialised, still went on holiday, still went to church and to Bible class, and still poured herself and anyone who happened to be visiting a glass of wine to the very end. She was also slim and elegant with immaculate hair and nails despite being registered blind. She loved company, especially dogs, who she favoured over her human visitors, and was the best listener I've ever met. She was totally my heroine for many years and if I am lucky enough to live to her great age I want to be just like her.

Nor is she the only one. I have another friend who is almost ninety. She is very deaf, is in constant pain, and can only walk with the aid of a frame or a stick because her body has become twisted and lop-sided with age, but none of this stops her from being a demon Bridge player, a welcoming and gracious hostess to any and all visitors, and a wonderful raconteur. She still manages her own home too, although with increasing difficulty, because she values her independence above almost everything else. Although she has lived a very interesting and eventful life, to the unknowing onlooker she is a tiny bird of a woman, overtaken by old age and fragility. Only when they notice the subtly coloured and carefully curled hair, the plucked eyebrows and the lipstick do they realise she was once something far more, and still is if they would only take the time to listen.

To quote the great Bette Davis, old age is no place for cissies, and it's true. Age brings aches and pains, chronic illness, the loss of loved ones, and being sidelined by the young. However, she also said, 'The key to life is accepting challenges. Once someone stops doing this he's dead.' And that is what my dear friends have done. They have accepted the challenges of old age, which in their case includes illness, frailty and widowhood, and decided that life is not only still worth living but is worth cherishing as well.

In old age not everyone is lucky enough to have sufficient money to be comfortable or the mental capacity to face life head on, and even for those who can it is still the ultimate challenge. There is no one stronger than a very old person who has seen it all, however, and their resilience is something to aspire to. The grandmother in Remembering Rose, although a very different character to my friends, has something to offer the heroine that nobody else can and she doesn't care who she has to inconvenience to do it.

We live in an era that considers youth and beauty two of its most valued commodities. It's a time where the younger generation knows little and understands less about the way life was in the recent past let alone almost one hundred years ago. Such ignorance is an incalculable loss. Listening to very old people is a history lesson in itself, and watching them face the challenges of their ageing bodies  and minds with stoicism and wisdom is a lesson worth learning because one day it will be us.

Never ignore an old person because hidden in their silences and half forgotten memories is a rich history, and if you listen to them you will be able to see the years fall away as they remember what the world was like when they were young.

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/claydon-sheila-romance/

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