Skip to main content

Chapter 2


1946: A series of brief  encounters


 There was always laughter, music and song in our house. The old wireless set had been a constant companion for as long as I could remember. During the dark days of World War 2, the BBC Home Service and the 9 o'clock news had provided my lullabies and Alvar Lidel had been the singer. Now, in our brave new post-war era we still had the Home Service, but now we also had Light Programmes and Third Programmes. During our waking hours the radio was always switched on and the volume cranked up to maximum.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Just a Boy From Bristol

JUST A BOY FROM BRISTOL Chapter One Through the eyes of a child   On the 3rd September 1939 a war started that would change the course of history. It also denied millions of children across the world the opportunity for a normal, happy childhood. I know, because I was one of them. My father had re-enlisted in the Royal Navy as soon as the storm clouds of war had started to gather over Europe. He left my mother to bring up two young children alone, in poverty, and in what was a scary, changing world.  My mother was an incredibly beautiful young woman, but she was emotionally fragile. She was a wild, scatty, free spirited, capricious butterfly, who was constantly fluttering around, unable to settle. In many ways she was totally unsuited to the task in hand, but she was a mother, and she did what mothers do best. She cared for me; she did it well, and I will be eternally grateful to her. Mum, I thank you for teaching me how to...
33 comments
Read more
Don't talk to me about relegation battles. My father came home from the war in November 1945. He was a complete stranger to me, having been away fighting the Germans and their submarines for almost 6 of the first 8 years of my life. I had been just a toddler when he had sailed off to war, and I had no memories of him.  At first, our relationship was a difficult one, with both parties suspicious and jealous of one another, but Mums are shrewd, clever operators, and my mother was no exception to the rule.. She was soon busily building some bridges, and slowly but surely, Dad and I started to talk, like a father and son should do. We quickly discovered that we had one strong common bond...football. There had been no professional football during my young life, but I was already football crazy. My vivid imagination had been fuelled by the hundreds of stories I had read in various newspapers; articles I had digested from the sepia col...
Post a Comment
Read more

It was long ago and far away

Johnny, Frank, Paddy, Mike The first cut is the deepest run the words of the old Rod Stewart song, and no truer words have ever been written. I was reminded of it a few weeks ago when the four old boys ( pictured above ) met up for a quiet drink, a chat on current affairs, and an occasional stroll down memory lane. We all grew up together a long  time ago in war ravaged Bristol. With a combined age of 300 years, we share a million memories of our beloved city. We sat and watched the closing ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games. The conversation switched seamlessly back to 1948, for this was the year when London  last hosted the Olympics. Suddenly, we fell silent, all eyes turned to me, and we all burst out laughing. You see,1948 was the year that I fell in love for the very first time. I was only eleven when it happened. She was a new girl on the block...Her name was Maria Theresa, a tall, slender, elegant, Italian girl who spo...
Post a Comment
Read more