The View From the Corner Shop

At our WVS meeting tonight we discussed how we should use the money we had in hand. Our President said she had been asked to subscribe something to the Christmas Treat for evacuees and proposed 10s. There were several dissentient voices, one saying that the evacuees were getting far too much now, that they had oranges anytime while we hardly saw one, and that if they broke crockery they had nothing to do but get more from the Town Hall while we couldn’t buy it in the shops. Another said why couldn’t we do something for the soldiers billeted in the town; Dewsbury did not seem to bother about their entertainment. In the end the [money] was voted for the evacuees but grudgingly.

The American news commentator reviewing the month’s events said today was the 30th November, so New York must be 24 hours in advance of us.⁵⁰ Perplexed about the French Navy. It was a brave thing no doubt but why glorious? They should never have stayed in French ports. Have no respect for the French no matter how America whitewashes their Quislings [i.e., Nazi collaborators].⁵¹

Soldiers’ Wages. E. came to dinner. We discussed payment of wages for men in the Army, especially teachers. E. says the young girl with whom she works alternate weeks at the Co-op grumbles because she is made [to] work at all. She has about £5 a week coming in and sees no necessity to work. Her husband is a teacher and she draws his pay. E. says when Reg joins up she will have 27s apart from what she earns and will have to pay rent and rates and indirectly be helping pay for this lass to live in luxury. Margaret says all men in the forces should be treated alike and either all wages paid or none. Who the dickens in civil life could have 18s clear, when expenses were paid, for clothes and food?

Beveridge Report [laying the foundations for a welfare state, had just been published]. We had a rowdy dinner table. I happened to ask E. what she thought of the Report. That started Bert off at full tilt and we went at it hammer and tongs, I somewhat handicapped by a plate of scraped carrot. Bert said it was scandalous; where was the money coming from? Didn’t he pay out enough? We [addressing his female listeners] didn’t know – we hadn’t taxes to pay. He wished he was a munition worker drawing his £7 a week and little to pay out. It was such as him that dropped in for it, and so on, and so on. E., when she could get in a word, thought it [the Beveridge Report] a delightful fancy but one that could never be realised. Margaret thought it sensible and said there was rows when the Old Age Pensions were started – the country was to be ruined – but we were still going strong and who would want to abolish OAP now. Bert said he was saying nowt about the OAP. It was this other. Where was the brass coming from? Out of such as him! By tea time he had calmed down to just grumbling. Margaret said the point about young widows was good. Why should they have a pension for life? I said I could [see] the scheme being dangerous for men – £10 if you marry a man, poison him off and you get another £15 for funeral expenses. It would put ideas into some women’s heads. Margaret also said she agreed with not drawing the pension if working. Look at Mr and Mrs C. They must have had above £1,000 out of the Government and Mr C. kept on working until he was 70. And he had only paid into Insurance a short time before the scheme came out. And it looked as if they would both live to be 100. We [were] supposed to listen to Beveridge but were drawn into argument most of the time he was talking. Bert was reconciled and said it would be a good scheme when it got going.

Superstition. Mrs W. says her mother always wore red flannel underwear and a skein of grass green silk around her neck to ward off rheumatism.

WVS. At the WVS tonight our Chairman asked for volunteers to wait on at the evacuees’ party. There are no evacuees now on Dewsbury Moor and there was a little argument, but we finally all consented to put our names down, but with caustic comment because those districts sending many evacuees could only raise two waiters. We devoted most of the evening to discussing the proposed visit to the Panto [pantomime] after Xmas. Our Chairlady’s husband has promised us £1 towards this treat.

Went to pictures again today. About the fifth week in succession. Don’t particularly like the films but feel an increasing need for change. The blackout seems more trying this year. Thank heaven that will be over after the war even if rationing does go on for years.

Bert has completed and returned the card from the Electric Department which had on it a diagram of the meter and a request that we copy the position of hands on our meter and return. I cannot see how this system of meter reading is either foolproof or craftproof.

At the WVS we discussed Conscientious Objectors. Young So-and-So was preaching at the Chapel yesterday. He was a conchie and apparently regular attenders had boycotted him. Strong views were expressed today, one going so far as to say all conchies should be hung – they were all out to make money out of the war. ‘While our lads are fighting,’ said one. ‘By gow, if they offered me 3s a day dole when I came back I’d . . .’ ‘There’ll be work for everyone. Rebuilding and feeding Europe,’ said another. ‘There’ll be no unemployment.’ ‘Why?’ I said. ‘Because so much will want doing. We ought to be better off than ever.’ I said ‘You mean a boom and then . . . ?’ But the discussion hedged on to the many who were doing well out of the war and ‘you needn’t go short if you had money to pay with’. (One knew someone who bought a 35s turkey for tea because she could get nothing else.)

Bella Hill was telling me of the worry caused to her husband (a bus inspector) by conductresses absenting themselves from work. Yesterday 24 failed to appear for duty and Henry Hill had to rush round and find girls, whose rightful day off it was, to take their places. Even then six workmen’s buses could not turn out first thing in the morning for even drivers had to be pressed to serve as conductors to get the most important buses on the road. Bella Hill said they were going to prosecute girls in future if they did not produce a doctor’s certificate for even half a day off. And high time, I should think.

We discussed the punishment of War Criminals. Auntie said they would hide like rats in neutral countries. I said there were too many to flee, just as there would be too many to punish. It was a farce our Government talking of ‘bringing to justice’ thousands of beasts who are apparently revelling in persecution and cruelty for its own sake. To do so would take hundreds of years.

At the beginning of January we were promised eggs over the wireless, one each and twelve for priorities for the month. Our allocation arrived and on inquiry at the Food Office we learned that priorities were expectant and nursing mothers. Three applicants for ‘priority’ turned up during the week. (Seems as if the Government is bribing women with the offer of eggs to do their duty. No wonder the birthrate is soaring. Twelve eggs against other people’s one!) We gave out the eggs and of course fell short for our ordinary customers. We are allowed 10 per cent overplus for such emergencies and then apparently have to use our wits to spread out the rest among our eager customers. We get no satisfaction from the Food Office. There they are always beautifully vague and manage to give you an answer which when you ponder it over leaves you more bewildered. It’s the same with the circulars we get from time to time. One about these very eggs today, with a lot of ‘It is hoped the retailer . . .’, ‘It is suggested that . . .’, and so on. All nebulous and non-committal, not the sort of thing one can brandish in the face of outraged women who say warmly and truthfully (my sympathy is with the customer though I am a shopkeeper) ‘I haven’t had a shell egg since November. It said on the wireless . . .’, etc. etc. In short the shopkeeper gets the ‘mucky end of the stick’ every time. He is the buffer between the Government’s wonderful paper schemes which don’t come off and the housewives who want to know ‘why?’ As for these ‘priority’ eggs, they should be given out at clinics or such places and not donned on the poor shopkeeper to distribute.

Went to hear the Bournemouth Philharmonic Orchestra [playing at the Town Hall]. Two hours of bliss after a fortnight’s foreboding that (a) No concert could be worth the extravagance of a 4s ticket, (b) I should be ill and the 4s would be wasted, (c) I should have to walk home in the blackout. Why was I so fearful? The ticket would have been cheap at 14s. I was not ill. And the bus home was easily caught for all was over by 8.30. The Town Hall was crowded. There were many young folk.

To the Panto[mime] with the WVS, 21 of us, and afterwards to tea at the New Victoria, fish cakes and chips or Spam. (And we had discussed turkey and ham and tongue. But of course there is a war on.) The tea was 3s per head.

Looking in M.’s [shop] window the other day, stocked with £5 and £7 and £10 handbags, and necklaces and fripperies outrageously priced, I mused on the easy time such people have compared with we poor grocers. There is no limit to the quantity of goods they may sell and no check on prices. I know M. went to London shortly after the blitzes and brought back large quantities of goods (unless the Government is lying about restriction of luxuries). I also know he bought a £500 business for his brother-in-law, and paid for it in £1 notes. No comment needed! But I wonder how many businesses today can squiggle even 500 pence without the Exchequer knowing. And how many can be so independent of the Banks?

Day Survey, 10 February.⁵² Still seedy after my cold but rose at 7.30 as usual, arriving downstairs for the news. Had my breakfast, gave Bert his before Ma and Margaret got up. Kiddies swarming in with sweet coupons but we have little for them except liquorice. Bert keeping our boiled sweets for registered customers. Bert said ‘Don’t wash shop floor as it is such a nasty day’. Quiet interval. While Ma and Margaret had breakfast I knitted Army scarf and read Celia by [novelist] E. H. Young [1937]. At 10 Bert went into Dewsbury with Henry Hill to look at counter and fixtures Mr H. is disposing of. Few customers for potatoes, and Spam and cigs and sweets which we had not. Our best customer is to pay her bill. She was keeping me at it getting her groceries when the baker came and then the railway van – the latter only bringing tinned beans. Having disposed of all these three, sat and read again (Ma and Margaret cleaning upstairs) until Bert came back very pleased with his bargain but completely forgetting linoleum Margaret had urged him to buy and send up with his purchases. Still he was too engrossed to worry about lack of customers. Got off the bread orders, and shared out the few buns for registered. Made morning tea and dodged from house to shop, serving mostly bread and potatoes. Busier after 12 with kiddies and last minute customers. Closed at 1 o’clock for half day. Had dinner leisurely. Decided not to go to the pictures. Helped wash up, then sat down and dozed over [George Bernard Shaw’s The Intelligent Woman’s] Guide to Socialism [and Capitalism, 1929] until 3.30. Weather meanwhile had cleared so prepared to go out. This took me a long time as I felt poorly but determined to master it. Finally got off at 4.15. Went to Library, paid 5d fine, decided Dewsbury had no attractions, turned back, called at sub-Post Office for Insurance Stamp and Post Office for Bert’s Club money. Walked through Park and noted birds were singing as in April [this was a mild winter]. Had to dodge to avoid flying ducks. Home at 5.30. Felt tired and dismal, even boiled egg for tea did not console. Sat all evening in one chair without moving, reading and dozing. Bert grumbled rarely about the poor wireless programme. We all seemed out of spirits and went early to bed.

There was a play [by Adrian Alington] on the wireless tonight called The Man in the Chair, about a professor gloating over a helpless man, telling him that a previous victim had been buried alive while in a trance which enabled him to know what was happening though he could not move or speak. At this point Margaret switched off in disgust (although she likes thrillers in the ordinary way). I said I thought it in the worst possible taste when you consider all who have been and are being buried alive in this war. But the BBC often irritates me with this lack of tact and feeling. There was an instance on Sunday when after a beautiful religious ceremony and before the last words of the prayer had died away we were plunged violently, without pause or introduction, into a loud racing tune which went on fully a minute before we were told at the top of someone’s voice that it was somebody’s Players. I am not religious and I do not usually listen to religious broadcasts but this morning I did and I was not pleased to be jerked rudely from one mood to another, as if my mind and emotions were on strings like marionettes.

To WVS where we were given two dozen towels each to hem and wash. These should have been done twelve months ago. Delay is due to former chairlady’s negligence. We discussed the scarcity of fish and some were very heated over preference which they alleged was given to the Belgians in the fish market, some being seen to take 8s or 10s worth away and local women were refused any. One said she knew for a fact that the Market Men had orders from Town Hall to give the Belgians preference. Another said it was done so they would give us a good report when they went back to Belgium.

There were around 240 Belgian refugees in Dewsbury, and a few more in Heckmondwike, according to a report from the summer of 1941 when they had a reunion on the day before Belgian Independence Day, around a year after their arrival in Dewsbury (Dewsbury Reporter, 26 July 1941, p. 6). ‘Most of them came from the Ostend area, and had many thrilling adventures before reaching Milford Haven, but it is gratifying to know that practically all of them now have homes of their own in this district. Most of them are in employment, and are very happy here, although a Reporter representative, who chatted with many of them, was impressed with their ardent desire to return to their own land, their relatives, and their friends, many of whom they have not heard of since they left them behind in their hurried rush to escape the furious German onslaught.’ Their appearance was contrasted with that of the summer before. ‘The youngsters romped, laughed and sang, thoroughly enjoying themselves, while the older ones were obviously quite at ease, conscious that they had regained their self-respect, and were able to lead an independent life. The Belgian Colours were everywhere to be seen, and although most of the refugees conversed together in their own language, most of them by now speak English – or rather Yorkshire – fluently.’

Pleased it is the Americans who are suffering reverses [in Tunisia] and depending on us to help them. What a blow to their self-esteem! All the same I wish our PM would not come back from his trips so buoyant that he makes us all float on air – for our balloon is so often pricked. This catastrophe was never foreseen and must make a hash of the Casablanca Conference [between Churchill and Roosevelt the previous month]. No wonder Stalin is impatient.

Stalin is not only impatient but sarcastic. That is evident from his reference in his Order of the Day to the absence of a Second Front [in Western Europe, for which the Soviets were actively lobbying].

To the WVS. Poor attendance owing to the darkness and strong wind. Collected for wreath for Mrs H. Discussed proposed whist drive and whether it was to be held at Centre (the Baptist Chapel) or the Council School. One wanted dancing too. Exclamations from those who were Chapelgoers. They said it would never be allowed; we must be thankful even that whist was allowed on the Chapel premises – that was only a recent concession. This led to a long argument whether the Trustees had a right to say what should be done when they let the Sunday school. One lady said that at Socials where certain persons – mentioning no names but you all know who I mean – went home the young ones got up to dance and it [did] her heart good to see them. After this we drifted off WVS business on to stories of old Chapel-going days and the meeting broke up in laughter.

Mr N. the sub-Postmaster sent word to Bert to expect his fire-watching notice for he had inside information that himself and Bert and two others were being nabbed and also mentioned the place they would have to attend at. Bert sky-high of course. Saying they wouldn’t get him; he’d his own business premises to watch and anyhow he was street fire-party.

Bert got his notice today and alternated between saying he was not fit to go and they couldn’t make him go as old as he was. (On other occasions he always says how young he is. [He was fifty-four.]) And going without sleep knocked him up and what about the shop the next day, and so on and so forth. The worst week we have had for points for some time. Everyone spent up on fruit at the beginning of the period. We have most of our plums and rhubarbs left on the shelves with our points tied up. Marks & Spencer reaped the benefit of that little scheme. They had most varieties of fruit for sale.

Bert gone down to interview Secretary of Chamber of Commerce. Has great faith he can influence Deputy Food Officer to get him off. Oranges today. Usual grumbling from mothers of over-fives and others. Much better to do as Margaret says and give one orange per ration book, old and young, or else send all to hospitals. Received form about shop assistants on Saturday and noted number of N.S.2 [National Service] to be given, if any. Henry Hill said I should have received N.S.2 when I registered. Ransacked house to find N.S.2 all day Sunday. No N.S.2. Down to Labour Exchange this morning fearfully, to confess loss of N.S.2. Young Labour Exchanger, after puzzling some time, said I never had one. I was too old for N.S.2.⁵³ Was going to bash Henry Hill when we met but anger was soothed when going to tidy up after ransacking I found a two-year-old birthday card with a ten-shilling note pinned to it, which I had completely forgotten, and which had been lying fallow all this time. I patriotically bought 10s Savings Stamps.

Bert received his notice to fire watch about half a mile away. He says he doesn’t think it right at his age and with all he has to do in the daytime. Margaret ‘soothes’ him with reminding him he can have a rest while most poor men have to work right through the next day. I make no comment. It will be my turn shortly I expect.

There being nothing at the pictures worth seeing, I accompanied Bert and Margaret on their walk through the fields. On our return we called on Mr N. and found he’d had his notice too. He was very chuff. ‘What did I tell you? Wasn’t I right?’ He said he couldn’t get off to guard his Post Office but strangely enough the publican opposite, who was only 42, was excused on the grounds he was watching for the brewery who owns the pub.

Twelve half pounds of suet and 43 registered families. Bert had a brain wave. He rigged up an ingenious arrangement whereby every registered housewife pricked for the chance to buy a packet. This suits them down to the ground.

To WVS. More discussion about where to hold whist drive. Argument among Chapelgoers as to whether relaxation of Methodist rule ‘No Whist Drives’ is to be interpreted ‘Whist Drives only for benefit of Methodism’, or ‘Whist Drives for any cause’. The Church hall was suggested as most suitable since the Chapel schoolroom was deemed too small now the Wardens were joining in the scheme. Some wanted Town Hall but that was voted too ambitious and too far away in any case. We discussed possibility of raids on Dewsbury and said we were lucky to have escaped so far considering the targets in the district. Four elected on to Committee.

L.L.’s traveller complaining that his firm (grocery and provision wholesalers) cannot get points goods. He had very little to offer. Bert complaining about Lord Woolton. Traveller said Woolton had done well in some respects but he never forgot his business interests. His boss was repeatedly going to London but could get no satisfaction. The big firms (such as M&S) were getting more and more and the small ones were getting less. There was no fairness of distribution and in turn as the wholesalers couldn’t get goods, the small retailer was left without. Bert said he couldn’t understand why these firms were allowed to trade in lines they didn’t touch before the war. The traveller explained how it is. When an M&S store (or any similar one) is bombed out in a seaside resort or place where they sell these lines there is some juggling with the Food Controller to have the licences transferred to branches in industrial towns which formerly didn’t sell these goods. Whether it was legally allowed or not, the traveller didn’t know, but it is done and there you are. There is no fairness about it.

It was sometime this month (DR, March 1943) that Kathleen wrote about the food situation in Dewsbury and women’s attitudes to it, subjects on which she could speak with some authority. ‘We are able to maintain quite a large stock of one thing or another. But we do not consider we are fairly dealt with as regards variety in Points goods. For instance, our allocation of tinned fruit consisted entirely of plums and rhubarb, and consequently our customers trekked to town half a mile away to buy where there was a variety of choice – that is, Marks & Spencer’s. Then they came back minus Points for all of the last Period and grumbled at us because they couldn’t buy anything for three weeks. We should have done the grumbling. There is the same trouble with dried fruit. We get the same old thing time after time, prunes and sultanas, while M&S get apricots, dates, dried apples and other things. And again we seldom get apples and oranges from our local greengrocer wholesaler who also supplies M&S. But apart from these injustices (as we feel they are) we do not do badly. Our customers usually seem satisfied and often praise us for our well stocked shop.’

She then went on to write of her experiences with specific aspects of provisioning. Eggs, she said, ‘we get regularly and give out fairly, which is more than many shops do if all we hear is true. But we are never sure about Priority eggs, which keep changing. We depend on the wireless for instructions and our allocation is always at least one behind the current number. But our customers are equally mystified and I am sure we could cheat most of them and they would be none the wiser.’ Points coupons ‘are another puzzle to many customers. They say “I’ll leave it to you. Give me some biscuits and make up the rest with anything – but no fish.” (Tinned fish is a poor seller here.)’ As for perceived luxuries, ‘We have most bother over little extras such as apples or onions which take some stretching round and woe betide us if we sell any to non-rationed customers. We soon hear about it. Oranges are a very sore point. Mothers of older children are very bitter if they see green ration books produced for oranges. (This is a farce because most shopkeepers refuse to sell if they don’t want to keep them for favourites of any age.)’ Sugar and tea ‘seem to be nearly everybody’s bugbear. They cannot be made to spin out. Men folk and kiddies get the sugar. They will not give up having very sweet tea. The women go without much more frequently.’

In spite of shortages, many shops managed to keep their shelves and counters impressively stocked with goods – even if some were not quite the goods their customers would have preferred.
Photograph © IWM D2374

To the WVS. Mrs H. reported a not very good first meeting with the Wardens for whist drive. They seemed half-hearted and made difficulties. They wanted tickets to be 1s 6d with no supper included and said flatly they could not subscribe anything towards it. Regrets were expressed we had ever invited the Wardens to join us but now too late to back out. Talk then diverted to Wardens’ clothes and the new issue of overalls; they had one only twelve months ago. One wife of a Warden said he was told he had only to go to the Depot if he wanted boots – there was plenty there – all sizes. Mrs K. said it was disgusting the way things were being carried on and money wasted. What the Government was thinking of she didn’t know but they would get no brass out of her to fly up i’ t’air and vanish, ‘Wings for Victory’ or not. Mrs P. said yes, it was as her husband said – the war would go on as long as money could be found for it and when all t’brass were done, t’war would stop. Them as could keep finding brass longest would win. It was a money war same as they all were. (Some murmurs of assent here.)

To the WVS after words with Bella Hill who flatly refused to go, saying it was only a gossip shop and what good did they do. As she has never raised a finger or done a stitch of knitting I thought this was rich. We had a good meeting, though there was no response to the appeals for more to make camouflage nets. Mrs R. said why couldn’t some of the ‘organisers’ take a turn – there seemed to be plenty of them [‘Organiser’ was the title used for most WVS leaders]. She supposed it was like the canteens – plenty of servers at the counters but no washers up. Well, if camouflaging was of such importance why didn’t the Government pay for it – doing like any other war work – and there’d be no lack of workers then.

Heard no grumbles about the tobacco increase, even from old age pensioners. But we are selling slightly less cigs. This will go back to normal in a little while. Women who formerly treated their husbands to 20 cigs when getting the rations now only buy 10 and say if they [their husbands] want any more they must buy them. Non-smokers, including myself, are very complacent and self-righteous. Heavy smokers say ‘We shall have to have them whatever they cost. We’re helping to win t’war aren’t we?’⁵⁴

M. came to tea. She says she has to report before a Board with a medical certificate to say her mother is not fit to be left every three months, although she is turned 35. She says she does not resent that; it is only part of the system, but she does resent that some of the women on the Board are of registering age – in fact have registered. This, she argues, is not fair.

Went to the CEMA [Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts] Symphony Concert [by the Bournemouth Philharmonic Orchestra] in the Town Hall. Poor attendance – only half full. Dreading that there will be no more. Now heard three first-class concerts and have had my ears and heart opened to good music [Kathleen often evinced a yearning for ‘higher’ culture, to which in Dewsbury she had only limited access]. The wireless is no good for real listening – there are too many distractions in an ordinary household, not to mention violent opposition and sarcasm.

Cigarette sales definitely down this week. Hard from a business point of view but from a patriotic point of view good. Am always annoyed when told to eat less bread and save shipping that there is no mention of less smoking, which is after all less necessary than bread. I can’t believe even the most weak-willed chain smoker would rather starve than not smoke.

Where is Winnie? He seems to be lying low so is doubtless on one of his trips. North Africa I expect [he arrived that day in the United States]. The more we win the more people seem convinced of a long war, which is strange on the face of it, but really shows they are appreciating the difficulties before us. Several customers hopeful we shall get more fruit now, dried or fresh. I long for a glass of orange juice as Keats longed for his beaker of the warm South. Won’t I turn vegetarian/fruitarian after this?

No buses this morning so there is a strike after all. What a beastly thing to do to the work people who depend on them. The trouble is over irregular hours, I think.

Men sympathise with the bus strikers. Women don’t. So it seems from what I hear in the shop. The latter take the attitude that ‘our lads in Africa can’t strike’. It seems that many of the bus people have so many hours on and so many off during the day so that it takes them anything up to sixteen hours to earn eight hours wages, and as some live a considerable distance away it means they have to stay around the bus station waiting to be called on. Mothers of girls working on munitions are particularly angry when the girls have to walk home. However, now soldiers are helping with trucks – no fares but collections for the driver.

I have heard several people say they were against strikes of any kind – they were altogether wrong and did no one any good. And a good many said they were against strikes in wartime. And some seem obviously at a loss – torn between sympathy and irritation. The majority, apart from grumbling at the inconvenience, take no sides. It is supposed not to have union sanction but all the union people are out, leaving only inspectors, who I gather haven’t to be in a union (one’s wife said her husband had to go in with the bosses), and timekeepers, only a few of which can drive. A bus inspector I know was at it except for meal intervals from 4 o’clock a.m. to 11 p.m. and says it will be like that until it is over. Many of the men joined the union after the girls’ strike some time ago.

People are more and more fed up at having to walk out of Dewsbury, especially as it is so warm. It is a very unpopular strike among the general public. Henry Hill (our friend the bus inspector) says they have had yet another meeting and only decided on staying out by four votes. He says that if there had been a secret ballot the strike would have been over; as it was, the silly lasses were looking around to see how their friends and sweethearts were voting and doing the same. (Three cheers for democracy!) Henry Hill looks played out. Up at 3 a.m. and on the go until 10 p.m. for days is too much of a good thing. But there is a lighter side. Yesterday he said as he was hoisting a stout lady up the step ladder into the waggon she fell back on him and squashed his 30 cigs! He says he has never done so much pulling and shoving in his life. It is an ‘ill wind’, however. The soldiers are delighted. One has already made over £12 in tips. He was very put out when his waggon broke down and he had to miss ‘two b—— trips’. Henry Hill says it is sheer pleasure to work with these sergeants. Only a wish or suggestion has to be expressed and it is carried out – with no argument or fuss. They wear crash helmets all the time.

The discontents of these wartime bus conductresses and drivers were over both wages and the hours of work, which often involved very early starts (4.30 to 5 a.m.), late endings (near midnight), much waiting-around without pay during the day, and erratic work schedules. Absenteeism sometimes lengthened the hours and heightened the strain for those workers who did show up. A few months later Kathleen wrote that ‘I think the bus strike here in the summer was justified although it did inconvenience the war effort. The conditions were bad and public attention was drawn to that.’ (November 1943 DR).

The six-day withdrawal of service produced a few temporary changes (Dewsbury District News, 22 May, p. 1). On Sunday ‘quite a number of ponies and traps were seen on the roads’; another effect ‘was to reduce considerably the numbers of young people who stroll around the centre of Dewsbury on a Sunday evening – a habit which has long been deplored’. These Sunday customs of youth had been remarked on by Kathleen a year before (April 1942 DR). ‘The Market Place at Heckmondwike is crammed every Sunday evening with “paraders”, lads and lasses of fourteen to twenty, who saunter in large, giggling, shrieking groups up and down the pavement, indulging in horseplay and using foul language. Young folks have to let off steam somehow when they have been cooped up all week, but no one will convince me that this is enjoyment, not the real sort of fun they should be having at their age. They are just plain bored stiff, though they don’t know it. And no wonder. Many of them live in such small houses that their parents are glad for them to get out and make more room. There is nowhere for them to go but the streets, except the pubs and Clubs. And what streets! Heckmondwike on a busy day is drab and ugly enough but on a Sunday evening, unenlivened by the bustle and stir of business – Crikey!’

Heckmondwike, with the approach to Market Place shown here, was a near neighbour to Dewsbury, and very similar in character. The industrial towns in this part of West Yorkshire came close to merging into each other.
Photograph © Kirklees Image Archive

The bus strike is over [it ended the previous night]. The people have returned to work under the same conditions as before; they have lost nearly a week’s wages to no purpose. WVS meeting. We discussed the Dam disaster. One said she lay awake all night listening to the bombers going over and worrying about our lads up there, and thinking about the floods in Germany, and feeling sorry for those decent Germans who were suffering from the catastrophe [hundreds of German civilians died as a result of these dam-busting raids on 16–17 May]. But she was soon told off. One said there were no decent Germans, they were all alike; one that that was not the way to look at it, we had to concentrate on winning; and several said that the Germans had no pity for us when they were ‘tops’. Everybody seemed hazy about the quantity of water – one said four million gallons, one four hundred, but neither really conveys any meaning to us, or to me at any rate, any more than the talk of so many hundred thousand prisoners.

Several people in the shop today have remarked on being wakened by aeroplanes flying over, which comment is unusual.

Overheard in the hairdresser’s: ‘Isn’t the Dam affair wonderful? All those floods! It must interfere with their munitions. And they can’t do anything about it. There must have been thousands drowned. It’s a pity in a way. I mean, mothers there having feelings for their children the same as we have. One doesn’t like to think of the poor people being drowned.’ Hairdresser: ‘We mustn’t look at it that way. They don’t worry about us in the least. We’ve got to go on and win the war.’

Several letters in the local paper about the bus strike, all condemning it. One from a soldier, one from a soldier’s wife, one from a woman munition worker.

These three letters (Dewsbury Reporter, 22 May 1943, p. 3) all contrasted the strikers’ conduct with the absence of individual freedoms in the Forces, whose members were fighting on behalf of everyone. ‘A soldier’s wife’, writing on 13 May from Mirfield, thought the strikers ‘should stop to consider all the advantages they have over the soldier who is fighting to defend his land. Compare the amount of wages earned, too [British soldiers were notoriously ill-paid], and yet how many of the bus men love to drink their nightly beer and criticise as to which country we ought to invade next. At the moment perhaps it is lucky for them that soldiers’ wives are not government officials or else the order would be: “If you are not satisfied with the job you are doing for your country, here is a suit of khaki, or air force blue, and a serviceman’s pay.” If their wives and children have then to go out to earn money to keep the homes, maybe the bus drivers left will take them to work cheerfully and willing[ly]. So, whilst we can wait patiently for our men’s return, after we have worked a wearisome day in the factory or on munitions, please don’t let us have to trudge home, where household duties await us.’

Auntie was here. We talked of Giraud and de Gaulle. She said de Gaulle had not been treated right. He had been cold shouldered after carrying the burden all the time, while Giraud had only come over when he saw how the wind was blowing. I suggested North Africa was so anti-British they daren’t put de Gaulle in for fear of an uprising.⁵⁵ Auntie said, well, none of the French were to be trusted. They had borne a grudge against us since Napoleon’s day, for these last hundred years. Bert said any soldier in the last war would tell you that Germans were to be trusted before Frenchmen any time. Auntie said you wouldn’t get her cousins, who lived in Germany before the last war, to say a word against the German people, although there was a lot of militarisation even then. They were splendid to live among. Whenever her cousins holidayed in England, they were greeted by all their neighbours on their return with garlands and branches. They always rued they were here when the war broke out and so couldn’t get back.

Had yet another visit from insurance men to invite Bert to take up six Endowments for Wings for Victory Week [5–12 June]. Don’t know how the scheme is worked but doubtless the Companies will get a nice bit out of the things. There seems to be no lack of petrol for them to run around with. Bert was discouraging. We had a shop full of customers or possibly they would have been more persistent. I shall go along in the old sweet way taking no heed of Wings for Victory or anything else. I put my small savings in regularly each week and if everyone did the same there would be no need to waste 1s for every 1s 6d taken in a special week.

Olive and Auntie to supper. We discussed sleeping and dreaming. Bert said he never waked to consider whether he slept soundly or not. Auntie has slept on her sofa partly dressed ever since the first air raids. Olive described a frequent dream she has where she is flying high in the air and cannot get down, but is wandering all night over church steeples and mill chimneys. Margaret and I have similar experiences: when dropping off to sleep faces appear before us in rapid succession; mine are grotesque, hers are terrifying.

No ration books to be given out this week on account of Wings for Victory. Only A and B given out so far [referring, apparently, to names listed alphabetically; see 8 June]. Hear various reports. Some say they had no bother and were not in twenty minutes; others were angry at having to wait an hour and a half, and complain that standing twice in a queue is beyond a joke. People who went at lunch time and evening after work seem to have fared best.

The News Chronicle correspondent [8 June 1943, p. 3] rather irritated me with his continual harping on what Russia had done and what she had suffered and what she was doing; as if no other country had done or suffered anything, as if we had been sitting with folded hands for two years and were only now getting down to it. I can see we will have to shout and blazen ‘our year alone’ up and down the world after the war. Neither America nor Russia will like us to refer to that. As for Russia’s sufferings, her own hands are not clean from atrocities to other people. I hope the correspondent stays long enough to get a few facts to take back to Russia with him.

Could get no points vouchers at Food Office today. They protested they were so behind with their work through being upstairs in the Victoria Hall all last week giving out [the new] ration cards. When asked what we were to tell our wholesalers when they ask for vouchers before we can have goods, there was no reply. This is a ridiculous idea, taking out of the Food Office all the clerks into another department to do different work. And we have yet another 24 letters of the alphabet to go through, besides exceptional cases. At this rate we shall not see another points voucher before the new rationing year. Of all the daft ——!

One of our wholesale travellers came today and read the Riot Act over this voucher business. Every shop he visited in Dewsbury had no points for him. The wholesalers are not supposed (in fact they have recently been instructed or ordered on this point by Lord Woolton himself) to allow any goods out without first receiving the points. He says he has never in all his travels come across such a place as Dewsbury Food Office and if there isn’t a row kicked up by the Chamber of Trade there certainly will be by infuriated wholesalers whose business is being hindered.

Mr D. is convinced Hitler will have a pot at us with all he’s got, including gas, before he goes down. He says Hitler doesn’t plan these things, there are others behind him. A man who only got to a corporal in the last war hasn’t enough about him to lead nations – he is just a puppet or figurehead.

Much talk among customers of the new food concessions for expectant mothers, and many ribald remarks. One said she was born twenty years too early. She had no help in bringing up her bairns. One said it was ridiculous depriving babies of up to six months of their sweet ration – all babies liked chocolate even if they couldn’t eat sweets! Another grumbled at cut in fats and bacon, saying there were no oranges to be got anyway; and another, who has just had a fourth baby, said they could have extra eggs and oranges who wanted to qualify for them. She wanted no more children – but it isn’t what you want, it’s what you get. Two or three seemed scandalised or skittish because unmarried mothers were included in the scheme, and all seemed unanimous that the interest in kids would not last after the end of the war. ‘They’ll be calling us for having them when unemployment starts again. Anyway, let them have kids that can afford them. Oranges and eggs!’

Margaret came upstairs to waken us at 11 p.m. to say that Mussolini had resigned. Not surprised. We all thought a revolution in Italy the next step.

Alice arrived from Northants. She had a decent journey except for bungling at N—— where she had to wait three hours. We took her in the Park to see the ventriloquist and on to the bowling green.

Terrifically hot. Set Alice on to pull peas to forestall pilferers who are robbing gardens just now. After shop closed we went to see bowling tournament in Park [held in Crow Nest Park during Dewsbury’s three-week ‘Holidays at Home’].

Ma and Alice to Mirfield. Ma overcome by heat on return. All into Park in evening. Hotter than ever. Storm during night. Alice insisted on pulling curtains. Nearly smothered.

Fire-watching with M. Awakened by a loud knock at 4 a.m. It was the police sergeant and constable to see if we had heard strange noises as the picture house next door was fully lighted and a door open. M. conducted herself with dignity although sitting up in bed. I never undress, as I trust neither the beds nor the lock of the cottage which opens straight into the street, but my stockings rolled down over my shoe tops and (I afterwards found) my hair net dangled from one ear. When they had gone I pondered for some time on the strange scenes that must be going on all over the country through fire-watching, and the more I pondered the less I liked it. Say what they like it’s no work for women.

Bank Holiday. Arose about 9 a.m. A typical showery Bank Holiday. Breakfasted altogether off bread and dripping. Proposed to Cousin Alice who was staying with us that we should walk into Dewsbury to book seats for [J. B.] Priestley’s When We Are Married, given by the Repertory Company [the Court Players at the Empire Theatre]. Walked through the Park – a damp, warm and sticky morning – Alice talking all the time. A long queue at the Empire necessitated a long stand before we could get seats for Tuesday evening. Walked slowly home to dinner at 1 o’clock. (Dewsbury a strange place with shops all shut but all mills and transport working.) After dinner I was so sleepy with the weather and with not resting properly at night owing to having hefty Alice as a partner when I am used to sleeping solo, that I went and lay on the bed for an hour. Then up again, still languid, and a walk in the Park was suggested. By the time we were all ready rain was pouring again. I sat and knitted with my outdoor things on. Alice produced her jumper. I said if that was intended for her it would not be half big enough. Ma and Margaret backed me up in this. Long argument whether she should pull back and begin again. Still not convinced it would not fit, Alice decided to leave it until she got home to measure with another jumper. Now fine so we walked through the Park. There was sounds of fun from the Marquee. Before we got home rain was peltering down again.

Tea, with tinned apricots and tinned milk, to celebrate. I read at intervals when the din and chatter would allow. About 7 we decided to go to see a Concert Party in the Park and found a decent seat. For a local effort it was unusually good and lasted three hours. The sides of the Marquee were lowered so more people could have a view but they had to stand in the rain. Home at 10.30 to supper of bread and dripping and after listening to Haw-Haw⁵⁶ and European news – to bed.

This is the third successive August Bank Holiday that has been wet and muggy and the third I have spent in similar trivialities.

7

Looking Up?

November 1942–August 1943