War has many casualties.  The obvious ones are the men and boys who never came home but lost their lives while fighting for our future freedoms.  Many men lost limbs, were badly burned and thousands suffered from the mental anguish of seeing comrades die in their arms.  Yes any war is dreadful.

There are also countless other casualties who lose someone due to a war.  These are the families who’s lives are dramatically changed when daddy comes home after a long absence.  I was a child of one of these families.  My brother was born before the second world war, I was born the year ended.

Mother had spent the six years of war keeping the home together, working in a munitions factory and being in charge of the running of the household.  I guess when dad came home, he wanted to take over as the “boss” and mom was unwilling to give up control.

The result of this was my parents decided to split up, my dad left and I, at two years old was packed off to live with grandma.  My mom needed to work full time but, as my brother was in school, he stayed with mom.  This began my life with grandma.

Grandma was wonderful and life was never dull.  She had brought up six children of her own with a husband who drank all his earnings, so had always done anything she could to make money and keep her family together.  She took in washing, sewing, she made meat pies for lunches at a local mill, she “layed out” corpses and attended births, in fact my gran was the “go to lady”of our small town.

Over the next eight years, I learned so many things that most children never saw, but my grandma was the kindest, most practical, resourceful person I ever knew and she made such an impact on my young life.  I was the eldest granddaughter of the family, so she and I bonded in a special way as no other kids were around to share her affections.

Grandma had always had to struggle to make ends meet, so she had learned to live a thrifty life.  The sole means of heating, in her home, was a coal fire.  This was housed in a huge “black leaded” range.  She used the attached ovens for all her baking and the fire had a boiler behind, which heated all the water in the home.  The fireplace had two swing-out brass hobs, one of which housed a big black kettle.  It was actually brass, which I only found out much later, but it’s permanent home on the hob made it soot-blackened.  This kettle was always seconds away from boiling so tea could be made instantly when a visitor dropped by.  The other hob was used for an enormous stock pot which was also always in use.

There was a small warming oven above the cook oven.  In here, grandma kept our nighties, so they were always warm.  However, she also kept kindling in the same oven, so you had to shake your clothing well, or get fight with splinters all night.

My favourite memories of living with grandma was getting undressed in front of the fire, then sitting with a huge wedge of home made bread, on a toasting fork, and watching it get golden brown over the fire.  Sitting with my feet up on the rail, eating hot buttered toast, and drinking cocoa, is one of my best childhood memories.

Life with my gran was good.  I was a very lucky child.

Pat Whalley