Some sunny day

A couple of weeks ago, it was the 70th anniversary of VE Day. 

Life during wartime is not an experience many of us have shared or can even imagine, but for people like my mum, it remains a powerful memory.

Here she is; Nurse Rhonie King. She worked at St James' Hospital in Balham, London.

She recently sent me two extracts copied from her diary kept at the time. 

This is from 1944, when she was 20;

The long wailing sirens sounded, warning everyone - an air raid alert... I was looking out of my third floor window [in the Nurses' Home] and heard a doodlebug* approaching our hospital. I prayed it would go over, but the engine cut out, it dipped, and I knew it would soon hit the earth. There was 15 seconds to find somewhere to lie flat and cover my head. Then an awful wait, followed by a shuddering explosion. 

The bomb had demolished one end of the hospital and a row of shops and houses. All our local favourites razed to the ground - the little cafe, the butcher's, grocer's, hairdressers, confectioners, tobacconists. Wards 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 were smashed and everything hung in tatters. It was utter chaos...

There was no time to be heartbroken or tired. More and more casualties came pouring in - crying, screaming, frightened, in terrible pain, shredded clothes, burnt skin, broken bones, blood and gaping wounds, and the all-pervading smell of gunpowder...

All night we worked and all next day, till we were exhausted. But it had to be done. 

(* A doodlebug was a V-1 flying bomb.)

                                                                                                     

                   

 The second extract contains her memories of VE Day itself; Mum was 21. When she and her friends came off duty in the evening, they headed to the West End to join the celebrations.

Once in Trafalgar Square, we were stunned by the noise and the brilliant lights, after so many years of total blackout... Now, here were neon signs flashing on many buildings, restaurants ablaze, coloured lights in all directions, theatres lit up. Searchlights picked out Nelson on his column... Fireworks exploded...[and] people shouted and roared, clapped and sang, cheered and hurrayed.

Along with everyone else, we danced and sang and cheered all the way up The Mall...Young men climbed lamposts waving flags, there was music all around, bagpipes, mouth organs and drums, groups of complete strangers linking arms, dancing, kissing, hugging, singing - anything to express joy.

At Buckingham Palace...thunderous cheering broke out as King George and Queen Elizabeth and the two princesses appeared on the balcony.

So somewhere in that vast elated crowd captured by the Pathe News film are my mum and her friends; every time I see it, I think perhaps I'll spot her, though I've seen it lots of times.

And as coincidence would have it, look what I rescued from the charity shop skip recently; a World War II gas mask in its original box. 

I know they aren't particularly rare, but I was sad to see it being thrown away, so I asked if I could take it and give it to school. Every year, the Y6 classes do a topic learning about World War II, and I thought it might make an interesting resource.

Mum went on to train as a midwife after the war, but eventually left nursing in the late 1940s to become a member of the Women's Land Army. 

Don't mess with a woman carrying a scythe!

My mum, like so many other of her generation, lived through so much hardship, destruction and misery. And how glad I am to be living a different life, in different times. 

1970s Miss Mary of Sweden dress, 1960s vinyl/tapestry bag, shoes, sunglasses and bangles - all charity shopped

This 1970s dress has a 1940s look about it, so it seemed a fitting tribute to my mum's wartime experiences.

Though I very much doubt she wore bright red, polka dots, or heart-shaped sunglasses.

Thank goodness I get to live in full colour!

xxxx