Monday, 27 October
Miss F. came in greatly put about because her evacuees had left suddenly last night. The woman and child have been for a fortnight, the man three days. They had got their permanent ration books and registered also here for free milk only on Saturday. Miss F. said they thought the wife and child would be kept by the Government and if the man got a job here all would be lovely. When he found he would have to support his own family, he sheered them back to Hull, where he’d chucked up one job at £4 10s per week. I said I wondered how much time and money and how many people have been involved on their behalf from first to last. Miss F. said he counted £39 notes in front of her.
Greatly interested in Beatrice Webb’s views on Co-operative movement as one or another of us have been employees at some time, but cannot share her enthusiasm for Co-ops (retail). Think they have had their day. The ones I am familiar with are certainly not so smart in appearance or service as private shops of the same size. And they get the wrong type on committees. But I do not think they harm ordinary shops so much as Woolworths and Marks & Spencer are shaping to do. At Wakefield, Woolworths, next door to an old established chemist’s shop, sells all kinds of ‘chemistry’ at prices so high as 5s 6d.
Glad to see Oliver Wakefield is banned by BBC. Not before time, too.
Oliver Wakefield’s comedy sketch on Music Hall, 25 October 1941, provoked immediate consternation in the BBC as well as outrage among the general public on the grounds that his concluding joke was too vulgar for broadcast. The Director General ordered the comedian banned from the airwaves for six months and the entire sketch to be replaced by music when the show was rebroadcast. Subsequent enquiries revealed that the offending material drew its humour from innuendo, incomplete sentences, and pregnant pauses that left much to the listener’s imagination. Such routines were commonplace in music hall performances and would no doubt have seemed harmless a couple of generations later.
The BBC had several concerns. First, as the nation’s public and only broadcaster, its programmes were held to a higher standard than performances in private venues, such as popular theatre. As one listener said of another offending show, ‘Me and my mates don’t mind that sort of thing among ourselves but the BBC’s different.’ Second, many programmes were live and thus offered little opportunity to control a performer’s pacing and delivery (the scripts were vetted beforehand). Third, material suitable for members of the Forces was liable to be deemed offensive when also delivered to people’s homes, where listeners were not pre-selected.24
Wednesday, 29 October
To Mirfield to fetch Ma. Piercing cold and snowy. Mr D. on his favourite subject, waste that goes on in this country. Mrs D. set him off, telling of her friend’s girl (20), who is in some service – couldn’t make out which – and has just come home and shocked her mother by the clothes she has brought. Two uniforms, stacks of silken underwear, three pairs shoes, etc. etc. Her outfit has done the country in for £60. She comes of a poor family and has had no sort of job before. Mrs D. says she will never settle down at home again. I grew impatient and said wasn’t it about time the Government stopped bribing girls to do their duty in this daft way, and tell them plainly what the alternative will be, if they don’t buckle to, under Hitler.25
Mr D. then got on about the waste of food. There are two large houses nearby, one sheltering refugees, one an orphanage. He says a man told him of the scandalous waste that comes from here, half eaten joints of meat, loaves of bread, and other perfectly good food, thrown in the swill tub. I said I couldn’t credit it; where did they get it from, to waste? Mr D. said it was true; the man was feeding twelve pigs of his own and two of his brother’s off the refuse from a small area around there. I said it ought to be reported but of course this man would not say anything if he was doing so well out of the waste.26
The fisherman offered Mr D. a bag of fish heads for his poultry. Mr D. demurred on account of flavouring the eggs whereupon the fisherman said, ‘They’re not for your customers now, are they? What have you to worry about?’ Mr D. agreed they were not and took the fish and boiled it, and if the eggs are flavoured he will keep a few poultry apart for his own use.
Thursday, 30 October
More oranges. I proposed we sell them singly to the kiddies going to school so we shall be sure they get them. People getting ratty because we have yet no onions. Also, false deductions about butter ration. Still only 2 oz.
Monday, 3 November
We have had various opinions expressed regarding the rationing of tinned goods, some customers saying it would be better to register at one’s own shop for them, seemingly having little faith supplies will be as ample as Lord Woolton says. I cannot see the point made by the Daily Mail [p. 2] that this new rationing will stop large multiple stores from monopolising trade; presumably they will still have their own large sources of supply and the advantage of being at the centre of things.
E. called to see us and we turned to the current topic of women and war work. E. said she could easily do part time work, preferably three whole days per week, if she knew where anyone wanted part timers. She said employers didn’t favour part timers because of double clerical work but why couldn’t wages be drawn once a fortnight? I said there was plenty of odd moments when we could do something if there was any kind of work that could be given out to be done at home, as they used to do shoe work in Northants.27
Tuesday, 4 November
After the two-months turmoil which has raged about us regarding Mrs Hobbs’s chief assistant, who was called up for war work and who did not go, the problem is solved by her going to have a family, so neither the country nor Mrs Hobbs will have her services henceforth. (Wonder if Mrs Hobbs will write Mr Bevin again and explain his intervention is no longer necessary.) Feeling depressed and convinced that this war will not be ‘won’ by anyone. It seems to me that only half our people have the ‘winning’ spirit. I wonder if it is a good thing that we are so well-fed, after two years of war. Doesn’t this help to [foster] complacency?
Thursday, 6 November
Most people seem pleased about the new rationing [changes designed to improve the distribution of some rationed produce]. Most say that ‘we are not doing so badly’ regarding food, ‘a lot better than last war’. I am becoming more and more sure we are doing far too well; we are being made too comfortable, one way or another. Same old argument with Mr B. regarding rations which he says we defraud him of. Tea again this week. He says he should have ½ lb for two of them, and he is going to the Food Office about it. I said I wished to goodness he would. The tea question would be simplified if people had to register at one shop. Our supply is based on our sugar requirements and is not nearly enough for our regular customers. And we have no allowance for soldiers and extras.
Friday, 7 November
Mrs L. says she ‘stayed at home’ this morning to go shopping, and says she will not work Saturdays any more because there is nothing left when she gets to the shops and anyway she has housework to do besides. She is not the only married woman who comes in the shop and tells me this. But would single women get away with it? Not likely. Married women are the most pampered class in the country.28 And married women with young children should be barred from going out to work until all single and childless women (of any age if capable) are doing national work.
Sunday, 9 November
Now Lyndoe [astrologist in the People] is predicting until 1953! Whether it is to be war and crisis all the way he doesn’t make very clear. Anyway it’s safe to fix on eleven years away. Everyone will have forgotten by then.
Monday, 10 November
Lyons’ tea man says they use 2 lbs tea per three weeks and 1 lb coffee per week for three people. Apparently he doesn’t ration himself, whether customers go short or not.
Discussing woodwork in houses (because Margaret is trying to make us draught proof – a hopeless job here), we fell to wondering why doorknobs should be put at such an inconvenient height instead of opposite the arm when bent from the elbow. And that led me off thinking that it must be far easier to build and make ugly things rather than beautiful or why we are surrounded and steeped in ugliness. Considering Dewsbury and Heckmondwike, with not a redeeming feature in them, one can but conclude that a sense of beauty does not ‘come natural’ but can only be acquired with training and time, and there is room for neither in a manufacturing district. The awful thing is that most folk don’t know they live in ugly (or just drab) surroundings and therefore of course don’t care about it.
Another Mass Observation diarist (no. 5380), a woman from Glasgow in her mid twenties, had similar feelings about nearby Leeds, on which she elaborated after a visit there on 21 January 1944. ‘Leeds is a depressing town, although it has a lovely position and one or two fine buildings well laid-out. But the squalor of all this part of England makes one appalled at the thought of all these hideous buildings being put up once all over these industrial counties. What horrors the Industrial Revolution is responsible for and what a mentality those people must have had who caused all this to be perpetrated.’ Then she wrote more benignly: ‘But in spite of the buildings, I feel at home in this country with its hills, grey skies and damp sweeping wind. Even the grimy stone houses have a homelike and familiar look after all the brick houses of the south [she was then residing in St Albans]. The people are surprisingly pleasant’ – ‘charming and helpful,’ she found.
Tuesday, 11 November
Got our new ration cards. Also a sheet from the Food Office with instructions. Glad I have not to pass an exam on all the food rules and regulations that are showered on us. It is getting to be a case of ‘let’s do it this way and hope for the best – no time to look it up’. I flatter myself I shall be a ‘skilled worker’ by the end of the war. Oranges again this week. Wish they would give them out at school or clinics. Our customers with bigger children get upset and it’s ‘what a to-do’ all round.
I thought the PM’s speech good on the whole [Churchill warned Japan against attacking the United States]. Refreshing after the ‘cumbersome’ ones we get from America [American Commentary, no doubt]. (We are going to sing China’s praises too, now. After five years of passing by.) Only two people voluntarily mentioned hearing it. Also, no one mentioned Armistice Day. A few people were wearing poppies.
Wednesday, 12 November
Margaret has written all her friends to say she is not buying Xmas presents this year, and hopes they will agree to do the same as she proposes, put the money in War Savings – strength of mind which I wish I could emulate. The tea situation waxes more and more vexatious. Our customers are annoyed when we have not their full rations, and rightly, because, although there is supposed to be no registering, no one will take on strangers when they cannot supply ‘regulars’. If tea is really short why can’t we be told and have the ration lowered? Bert has decided not to supply soldiers with tea [it was felt they could readily get supplies elsewhere], after ignoring my suggestion to do this a month ago.
What effect will the new Shop Order have on Woolworths etc.? None, I suppose. They are already well in.
Some confusion over the new rationing [the rules frequently changed]. Several people have asked if they may register here and are dubious when we tell them they may go anywhere for tinned goods. Apparently they feel ‘safer’ when ‘tied’ to a shop. And what a number of people did not know or had forgotten there will be extra sugar and fat next week!
Sunday, 16 November
Spending day in bed as think have earned holiday after two heavy days. Friday ‘took the biscuit’. Think I shall write Lord Woolton a detailed account of one of our Fridays for him to consider how he would tackle it. It will run so:
Friday – thick fog and bitterly cold in shop. Started with knowledge supplies had not arrived. No bacon or sugar. Prepare rations as far as possible in little piles for each customer with any ‘treat’ there is (choc, fruit etc.) to save time later on. About 9.40 Bert says what time is the bus to town as we have no copper. (If fine he’d have gone himself in car. In bad weather I go!) Hastily donning hat and coat run across road, catching bus by miracle. (On time because foggy – otherwise ten minutes late.) Conscious not looking best in knitted cap, overall peeping under coat and dirty stockings. Arrive back 10.20 starved through [chilled to the bone]. Margaret comforts with rum and coffee. Mrs S. (ex-Mayoress) trying to wheedle extra butter from Bert. ‘Are there no poor folk who take all margarine?’ ‘No, madame, afraid all take the full ration of butter.’ ‘Is it time for jam?’ (She says this every week.) Bert and I strain lungs explaining not yet. (She is stone deaf.) Supplies not yet here. Continue weighing rations. Our landlord in to say PC Riley died suddenly. Long and involved explanation to Bert who says does not know PC Riley. Landlord says, yes, [he] helped Bert start car last week. Bert remembers and says good thing [he] did not die when pushing car. During this various small boys seeking ½d carrots. I have to break off and serve while Bert ponders on PC Riley. Shut door nine times after small boys. Several [people] for rations. Explain about sugar and bacon. All very nice about it. Will call later. Old Mrs H. in to see if anything has come. Got her rations yesterday. Lingers in case of missing something. Bert retires into background, as usual, when Mr H. appears. No baker. 11.30. Yeast man with mint imperials. Bless him! Customers come and go. Mrs H. remains. Bert says suggestively ‘Yes, Mrs H.’ but Mrs H. ignores him. Several customers seeking pies and bread. Neither. All say, Isn’t it sudden about Bobby Riley? Mrs H. whispers – Can she have biscuits and matches? Knows she had her allowance yesterday but anything to get rid [of her]. Goes at last. 12 o’clock. Baker. Also forgot flock of kiddies for mint imperials. Controlled at 5d per quarter. Bert says sell at 6d and say nowt. Pandemonium begins. Do bread orders (always my job!) in and between whiles. Hope [we] have saved buns for everyone who wants them.
Hasty lunch of fried kidney (no bacon!) and spice (Xmas) cake. Greengrocer unexpectedly appears with cases of apples and oranges. (The latter are entered on special card we had to keep for purpose.) Bert says [they] would come on Friday. Puts out oranges with ‘Under 6’ notice but does not prevent all who come in trying to get some. Bert very honest about oranges and does save them for the kiddies. Special [constable] on this beat calls for a warm. Has heard nothing of PC Riley only that he is retiring. Woman joins in that blinds are not down [at his house]. (All afternoon controversy rages – is he dead or not?) 4 o’clock. Rush, rush. Everyone for rations. Not sat 10 minutes since 8 o’clock. Bert says take pay[ment] for sugar and bacon, then we shall be safe. Bert selling apples right and left to all comers. Beg he will think of ‘registereds’. Says there’s plenty. Try to rescue some (including 2 lbs for us). Know he is letting too many cigs go. They’ll not last out. Folk saying there is no dried fruit – it said on wireless etc. etc. (Drat the wireless!) And can they have tinned milk with ‘points’ coupons? Go to tea and listen to Ma’s adventures. She’s been out all day. Interrupted by arrival of rations at last. (5 o’clock.) Leave tea and help Margaret serve while Bert weighs incoming supplies and enters them in record book. Shop packed. Margaret not good shopkeeper. Will argue with complaining customers and lecture kiddies when they come in for ‘second helping’ of ‘spice’. Bobby Riley argument reaching new intensity when little Norman W. suddenly drops bombshell by saying his father was speaking to Bobby Riley at dinnertime and therefore he is not dead. Everyone looks daggers at young W. for being able to cause this sensation. Kiddies coming for oranges with and without book. Little boy to say given him 6d short change. Deny this strenuously. Women trying to get oranges and failing. Apples dwindling alarmingly. Bert stops sale except to registereds. Fear too late! Cigs finished. Shop still packed. Have to pause to black out.
6 o’clock. If another child asks for ½d carrot shall upend him into sack. Trying to reckon up large order when Mrs J. (Bert’s customer) asks if her husband has got a pie and cigs last Tuesday on her ‘tick’. Bert says can I remember? Tear myself from my own job and plunge into dimness of ‘Last Tuesday’. After some groping emerge with Mr J. and cigs and two pies. Mrs J.’s chin bodes ill for Mr J. Little boy back again with aggressive note demanding 6d change forthwith. Write on bottom, “Must have lost it” and return.
7 o’clock breathing space. Bert says extra rations for next week’s increase have not been sent. We are both unusually amiable for Friday night. Relieved apples went round. Last customer Mrs C. to pay weekly bill. Bert says must wipe off balance owing. Says ‘Ay, lad. It’ll be alright.’ Bert points out she said that before. ‘Ay, lad.’ Bert gives it up.
We close 7.45. Take last two oranges into house. Sink into chair with buzzing head (wishing I dare switch off Tommy Handley [star of ITMA – It’s That Man Again] – drat the wireless!) and dreamingly anticipate tripe and onions preparing by Ma. Realisation better still. Climb wearily to bed 9.30 and read consoling chapter on the tribulations of Early Christians! Last thought is that have forgotten to save apples for Mrs V., our second best customer!
Even when customers were ‘difficult’, according to Kathleen in March 1943 (MOA, Directive Response), they ‘bring new interests and we hear tales and gossip and laugh. This is a big advantage, being in a local shop instead of a multiple store – our customers are also our neighbours. We are interested in them as people, not just as customers.’