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"Once upon a time..." She began. Her stories allways began like that: in that old cliche manor, not that I would have you believe her stories to be Cliche, Oh no! Her stories are the best.
"Now, when I was your age the first world war had just ended, England was in a terrible state, Spanish Influenza wiped out half my street, my Father, back from fighting couldn't find a job anywhere. He searched and searched but alas nothing.
"I'll never forget the day Father returned. We were so excited. Good old Father home from the war. Emily and I put on our best dresses and staed up late to set our hair in curlers especially and Pete spent half the night polishing his trainset by torch-light. It had strated the Christmas before the war began. Father brought Pete a shiny black train. A clockwork one that you ran around on special tracks. We couldn't afford more than a small circular track but Father promised to help Pete build it up. Then the war began. The whole of the war Pete saved each and every farthing to buy a new piece of scenery or track. He said he wanted Father to be proud when he returned from the war. But he wasn't...
"Before he left my Father was marvellous. He would help us to make our kites then take us to fly them in the park, he would read us stories on Sunday afternoon. He was the best Father we could possibley hope for! But all that had changed when he returned from war.
"He didn't help us make kites, or play games, or read stories. He would just sit there, staring blankly at the wall. When we asked him to play he wouldn't even blink. Mother said we had best leave him alone. She confided in Emily and myself that during the war Father had seen things, awful things, things one can't even dream they are so frightful.
"The effect of the change in my Father on my family was unbelievable. Pete lost all his childhood confidence and became a quiet, nervous boy. Emily took up work in a factory to help Mother pay the bills and became surley and pale; and Mother. Mother seemed to shrink an inch a day, in both height and width. I still remember one night, as she served up our soup, her bony little hand gripping the ladle, the skin so sheer we could see each and every little bone. I was shocked. I on the other hand saw the effect on my family and decided that I should educate myself, so that someday I would help them. I would buy them all a large house and keep them safe.
"Ofcourse, such things are easier said than done. My sister Emily, died in 1921, she was involved in a car accident. Now these days that's not so rare, but in 1921, no-one died in car accidents, no-one had cars. Mother carried on for as long as she could but Emily's death broke her heart. She died just two months later. I left my schooling at 15 to get a job in an office as a receptionist. Pete was only 13 and still in schooling and Father had done nothing but eat enough to keep himself alive so I moved us to a new, smaller house in East London. In 1924 I got engaged to a young office clerk. We married and set up house with Father and Pete in a larger house. For many years we lived that way. Together we had two daughters. After each birth Father said nothing. In 1929 Pete married and left. All became 'normal' again. Not normal as it once had been, but a new normal, I got used to it.
"Ofcourse all that changed in 1939. Pete was 31 and my husband 35. Both were called to up to war in 1941. We'd been expecting it, but still, it came as a shock.
"The night before they were due to leave I took my father a bowl of soup and some bread up to his room. As I placed the tray down on his bedside table he reached out and grabbed my arm. I was stunned. It was the first time my father had made contact wih me for 23 years. 'Do not let them go!' He croaked, his voice rusty after over two decades unused.
'What?' I stammered.
'In the war... things you'd never believe... things that make you want to gouge your eyes out...things that chill you deep to the routes of your soul. I watched my best friend die in a cloud of invisible gas. He choked. He reached out for help but I... I...' and then he broke down. Not once in my life had I seen my Father cry. Not once. It was a sight that moved me to tears too. We sat there all night, him and me, crying. The soup grew a thin skin on top then went cold. And then, by the morning Father was dead. What happened that night destroyed part of me. But still I let them go.
"Two months after they left I received word tht Pete was dead. Six months after that my husband was gone too.
"In the war... things you'd never believe... things that make you want to gouge your eyes out...things that chill you deep to the routes of your soul"
"I still look back on times gone by. I never forget the loses of the war. It has been three years since Britain last went to war, and we're still at it. My Great Grandson, Harvey was killed last month. Some things never change."
"Now, when I was your age the first world war had just ended, England was in a terrible state, Spanish Influenza wiped out half my street, my Father, back from fighting couldn't find a job anywhere. He searched and searched but alas nothing.
"I'll never forget the day Father returned. We were so excited. Good old Father home from the war. Emily and I put on our best dresses and staed up late to set our hair in curlers especially and Pete spent half the night polishing his trainset by torch-light. It had strated the Christmas before the war began. Father brought Pete a shiny black train. A clockwork one that you ran around on special tracks. We couldn't afford more than a small circular track but Father promised to help Pete build it up. Then the war began. The whole of the war Pete saved each and every farthing to buy a new piece of scenery or track. He said he wanted Father to be proud when he returned from the war. But he wasn't...
"Before he left my Father was marvellous. He would help us to make our kites then take us to fly them in the park, he would read us stories on Sunday afternoon. He was the best Father we could possibley hope for! But all that had changed when he returned from war.
"He didn't help us make kites, or play games, or read stories. He would just sit there, staring blankly at the wall. When we asked him to play he wouldn't even blink. Mother said we had best leave him alone. She confided in Emily and myself that during the war Father had seen things, awful things, things one can't even dream they are so frightful.
"The effect of the change in my Father on my family was unbelievable. Pete lost all his childhood confidence and became a quiet, nervous boy. Emily took up work in a factory to help Mother pay the bills and became surley and pale; and Mother. Mother seemed to shrink an inch a day, in both height and width. I still remember one night, as she served up our soup, her bony little hand gripping the ladle, the skin so sheer we could see each and every little bone. I was shocked. I on the other hand saw the effect on my family and decided that I should educate myself, so that someday I would help them. I would buy them all a large house and keep them safe.
"Ofcourse, such things are easier said than done. My sister Emily, died in 1921, she was involved in a car accident. Now these days that's not so rare, but in 1921, no-one died in car accidents, no-one had cars. Mother carried on for as long as she could but Emily's death broke her heart. She died just two months later. I left my schooling at 15 to get a job in an office as a receptionist. Pete was only 13 and still in schooling and Father had done nothing but eat enough to keep himself alive so I moved us to a new, smaller house in East London. In 1924 I got engaged to a young office clerk. We married and set up house with Father and Pete in a larger house. For many years we lived that way. Together we had two daughters. After each birth Father said nothing. In 1929 Pete married and left. All became 'normal' again. Not normal as it once had been, but a new normal, I got used to it.
"Ofcourse all that changed in 1939. Pete was 31 and my husband 35. Both were called to up to war in 1941. We'd been expecting it, but still, it came as a shock.
"The night before they were due to leave I took my father a bowl of soup and some bread up to his room. As I placed the tray down on his bedside table he reached out and grabbed my arm. I was stunned. It was the first time my father had made contact wih me for 23 years. 'Do not let them go!' He croaked, his voice rusty after over two decades unused.
'What?' I stammered.
'In the war... things you'd never believe... things that make you want to gouge your eyes out...things that chill you deep to the routes of your soul. I watched my best friend die in a cloud of invisible gas. He choked. He reached out for help but I... I...' and then he broke down. Not once in my life had I seen my Father cry. Not once. It was a sight that moved me to tears too. We sat there all night, him and me, crying. The soup grew a thin skin on top then went cold. And then, by the morning Father was dead. What happened that night destroyed part of me. But still I let them go.
"Two months after they left I received word tht Pete was dead. Six months after that my husband was gone too.
"In the war... things you'd never believe... things that make you want to gouge your eyes out...things that chill you deep to the routes of your soul"
"I still look back on times gone by. I never forget the loses of the war. It has been three years since Britain last went to war, and we're still at it. My Great Grandson, Harvey was killed last month. Some things never change."
Another good story.. but you seem to have a.. depressing feel going on..
"Once upon a time..." She began. Her stories allways began like that: in that old cliche manor, not that I would have you believe her stories to be Cliche, Oh no! Her stories are the best.
"Now, when I was your age the first world war had just ended, England was in a terrible state, Spanish Influenza wiped out half my street, my Father, back from fighting couldn't find a job anywhere. He searched and searched but alas nothing.
"I'll never forget the day Father returned. We were so excited. Good old Father home from the war. Emily and I put on our best dresses and staed up late to set our hair in curlers especially and Pete spent half the night polishing his trainset by torch-light. It had strated the Christmas before the war began. Father brought Pete a shiny black train. A clockwork one that you ran around on special tracks. We couldn't afford more than a small circular track but Father promised to help Pete build it up. Then the war began. The whole of the war Pete saved each and every farthing to buy a new piece of scenery or track. He said he wanted Father to be proud when he returned from the war. But he wasn't...
"Before he left my Father was marvellous. He would help us to make our kites then take us to fly them in the park, he would read us stories on Sunday afternoon. He was the best Father we could possibley hope for! But all that had changed when he returned from war.
"He didn't help us make kites, or play games, or read stories. He would just sit there, staring blankly at the wall. When we asked him to play he wouldn't even blink. Mother said we had best leave him alone. She confided in Emily and myself that during the war Father had seen things, awful things, things one can't even dream they are so frightful.
"The effect of the change in my Father on my family was unbelievable. Pete lost all his childhood confidence and became a quiet, nervous boy. Emily took up work in a factory to help Mother pay the bills and became surley and pale; and Mother. Mother seemed to shrink an inch a day, in both height and width. I still remember one night, as she served up our soup, her bony little hand gripping the ladle, the skin so sheer we could see each and every little bone. I was shocked. I on the other hand saw the effect on my family and decided that I should educate myself, so that someday I would help them. I would buy them all a large house and keep them safe.
"Ofcourse, such things are easier said than done. My sister Emily, died in 1921, she was involved in a car accident. Now these days that's not so rare, but in 1921, no-one died in car accidents, no-one had cars. Mother carried on for as long as she could but Emily's death broke her heart. She died just two months later. I left my schooling at 15 to get a job in an office as a receptionist. Pete was only 13 and still in schooling and Father had done nothing but eat enough to keep himself alive so I moved us to a new, smaller house in East London. In 1924 I got engaged to a young office clerk. We married and set up house with Father and Pete in a larger house. For many years we lived that way. Together we had two daughters. After each birth Father said nothing. In 1929 Pete married and left. All became 'normal' again. Not normal as it once had been, but a new normal, I got used to it.
"Ofcourse all that changed in 1939. Pete was 31 and my husband 35. Both were called to up to war in 1941. We'd been expecting it, but still, it came as a shock.
"The night before they were due to leave I took my father a bowl of soup and some bread up to his room. As I placed the tray down on his bedside table he reached out and grabbed my arm. I was stunned. It was the first time my father had made contact wih me for 23 years. 'Do not let them go!' He croaked, his voice rusty after over two decades unused.
'What?' I stammered.
'In the war... things you'd never believe... things that make you want to gouge your eyes out...things that chill you deep to the routes of your soul. I watched my best friend die in a cloud of invisible gas. He choked. He reached out for help but I... I...' and then he broke down. Not once in my life had I seen my Father cry. Not once. It was a sight that moved me to tears too. We sat there all night, him and me, crying. The soup grew a thin skin on top then went cold. And then, by the morning Father was dead. What happened that night destroyed part of me. But still I let them go.
"Two months after they left I received word tht Pete was dead. Six months after that my husband was gone too.
"In the war... things you'd never believe... things that make you want to gouge your eyes out...things that chill you deep to the routes of your soul"
"I still look back on times gone by. I never forget the loses of the war. It has been three years since Britain last went to war, and we're still at it. My Great Grandson, Harvey was killed last month. Some things never change."
"Now, when I was your age the first world war had just ended, England was in a terrible state, Spanish Influenza wiped out half my street, my Father, back from fighting couldn't find a job anywhere. He searched and searched but alas nothing.
"I'll never forget the day Father returned. We were so excited. Good old Father home from the war. Emily and I put on our best dresses and staed up late to set our hair in curlers especially and Pete spent half the night polishing his trainset by torch-light. It had strated the Christmas before the war began. Father brought Pete a shiny black train. A clockwork one that you ran around on special tracks. We couldn't afford more than a small circular track but Father promised to help Pete build it up. Then the war began. The whole of the war Pete saved each and every farthing to buy a new piece of scenery or track. He said he wanted Father to be proud when he returned from the war. But he wasn't...
"Before he left my Father was marvellous. He would help us to make our kites then take us to fly them in the park, he would read us stories on Sunday afternoon. He was the best Father we could possibley hope for! But all that had changed when he returned from war.
"He didn't help us make kites, or play games, or read stories. He would just sit there, staring blankly at the wall. When we asked him to play he wouldn't even blink. Mother said we had best leave him alone. She confided in Emily and myself that during the war Father had seen things, awful things, things one can't even dream they are so frightful.
"The effect of the change in my Father on my family was unbelievable. Pete lost all his childhood confidence and became a quiet, nervous boy. Emily took up work in a factory to help Mother pay the bills and became surley and pale; and Mother. Mother seemed to shrink an inch a day, in both height and width. I still remember one night, as she served up our soup, her bony little hand gripping the ladle, the skin so sheer we could see each and every little bone. I was shocked. I on the other hand saw the effect on my family and decided that I should educate myself, so that someday I would help them. I would buy them all a large house and keep them safe.
"Ofcourse, such things are easier said than done. My sister Emily, died in 1921, she was involved in a car accident. Now these days that's not so rare, but in 1921, no-one died in car accidents, no-one had cars. Mother carried on for as long as she could but Emily's death broke her heart. She died just two months later. I left my schooling at 15 to get a job in an office as a receptionist. Pete was only 13 and still in schooling and Father had done nothing but eat enough to keep himself alive so I moved us to a new, smaller house in East London. In 1924 I got engaged to a young office clerk. We married and set up house with Father and Pete in a larger house. For many years we lived that way. Together we had two daughters. After each birth Father said nothing. In 1929 Pete married and left. All became 'normal' again. Not normal as it once had been, but a new normal, I got used to it.
"Ofcourse all that changed in 1939. Pete was 31 and my husband 35. Both were called to up to war in 1941. We'd been expecting it, but still, it came as a shock.
"The night before they were due to leave I took my father a bowl of soup and some bread up to his room. As I placed the tray down on his bedside table he reached out and grabbed my arm. I was stunned. It was the first time my father had made contact wih me for 23 years. 'Do not let them go!' He croaked, his voice rusty after over two decades unused.
'What?' I stammered.
'In the war... things you'd never believe... things that make you want to gouge your eyes out...things that chill you deep to the routes of your soul. I watched my best friend die in a cloud of invisible gas. He choked. He reached out for help but I... I...' and then he broke down. Not once in my life had I seen my Father cry. Not once. It was a sight that moved me to tears too. We sat there all night, him and me, crying. The soup grew a thin skin on top then went cold. And then, by the morning Father was dead. What happened that night destroyed part of me. But still I let them go.
"Two months after they left I received word tht Pete was dead. Six months after that my husband was gone too.
"In the war... things you'd never believe... things that make you want to gouge your eyes out...things that chill you deep to the routes of your soul"
"I still look back on times gone by. I never forget the loses of the war. It has been three years since Britain last went to war, and we're still at it. My Great Grandson, Harvey was killed last month. Some things never change."