A WARTIME HOLIDAY: 4th-18th AUGUST 1945
Our holiday, three months after VE Day and in the days leading up to VJ Day and its celebration, seemed rather like what I imagined a peace-time one would be like. But the Japanese remained on the horizon and were still being very much worried about - especially, no doubt, by the many who had family members or friends still out in the Far East risking their lives every day or, even worse, being held as prisoners-of-war.
I was lucky in that, unlike most families in the Birmingham area, Dad and Mum managed to organise a couple of weeks in a cottage in South Devon in the summer of 1945 - AND save up enough petrol coupons for us to get there by car.
And so it was that I spent those momentous ten days of August there while the first atom bomb was dropped, and then the second, and after many days the Japs finally bowed to the inevitable. I was nine-and-a-half at the time and still retain fairly clear memories of those events of exactly 80 years and one week ago. The final outcome, for me, is a series of seven articles, written as a small boy's "diary" (and the inverted commas are significant!) which were created for the family archive but have also been put into public view, in case they are of any interest anywhere. I'll only quote a short summary from the first one, not least because the latter is possibly the one of the most direct interest to members of the Forum - the interminable journey from Birmingham to the South-West in those days. But there are clear links to the other articles if there is an inclination to carry on reading.
Here are the first few paragraphs of the first one:
A STREETLY MEMORY FROM SUNDAY, 5th AUGUST 1945 - FROM A SMALL BOY'S "DIARY"
..... Well, we're here. In South Devon.
We've left home behind, and the war, and everything else. I told you last time that we were going on holiday on August 4th. That was yesterday. A Saturday. We spent the whole day travelling from our house in Streetly. We're in the wrong place, really, to come to South Devon because we live on the wrong side of Birmingham. Coming from anywhere in the Midlands to get to Devon we have to go through the middle of almost every single town on the way. And so, because of exactly where we live, we also have to get through Birmingham, on top of all that .....
..... We did it in our Ford Prefect. It's black of course, with shiny red seats, 10 h.p., three gears, with windscreen wipers which slow right down if you are climbing a hill and a boot lid which hinges down to make a sort of shelf so that you can pile suitcases on top of it. Dad covers them with an old Home Guard waterproof cape. He bought the car in 1940...... Here it is........
..... I could tell you a lot about the journey but I won't because that would be boring for you, even though I found it very interesting. So just a bit. I've done it several times before but not for four years and before that it was all pre-war and I was very little. So I can hardly remember anything about it all from those days and yesterday was a new adventure for me. I'll just tell you that we started off early so that we could get through the middle of Birmingham before it got too busy........
.....
..... And this is where we have landed up!
(If you would like to see the whole memoir, it starts here: - and continues on six subsequent, linked website pages. It's safe to click on and it's NOT commercial).
(Please note that the odd passage in some of these articles may seem vaguely familiar. I posted some original scribblings here about five years ago and these have been in part used, here and there. These are the final, very much tidied up and extended versions of anything which has gone previously)
Chris
Our holiday, three months after VE Day and in the days leading up to VJ Day and its celebration, seemed rather like what I imagined a peace-time one would be like. But the Japanese remained on the horizon and were still being very much worried about - especially, no doubt, by the many who had family members or friends still out in the Far East risking their lives every day or, even worse, being held as prisoners-of-war.
I was lucky in that, unlike most families in the Birmingham area, Dad and Mum managed to organise a couple of weeks in a cottage in South Devon in the summer of 1945 - AND save up enough petrol coupons for us to get there by car.
And so it was that I spent those momentous ten days of August there while the first atom bomb was dropped, and then the second, and after many days the Japs finally bowed to the inevitable. I was nine-and-a-half at the time and still retain fairly clear memories of those events of exactly 80 years and one week ago. The final outcome, for me, is a series of seven articles, written as a small boy's "diary" (and the inverted commas are significant!) which were created for the family archive but have also been put into public view, in case they are of any interest anywhere. I'll only quote a short summary from the first one, not least because the latter is possibly the one of the most direct interest to members of the Forum - the interminable journey from Birmingham to the South-West in those days. But there are clear links to the other articles if there is an inclination to carry on reading.
Here are the first few paragraphs of the first one:
A STREETLY MEMORY FROM SUNDAY, 5th AUGUST 1945 - FROM A SMALL BOY'S "DIARY"
..... Well, we're here. In South Devon.
We've left home behind, and the war, and everything else. I told you last time that we were going on holiday on August 4th. That was yesterday. A Saturday. We spent the whole day travelling from our house in Streetly. We're in the wrong place, really, to come to South Devon because we live on the wrong side of Birmingham. Coming from anywhere in the Midlands to get to Devon we have to go through the middle of almost every single town on the way. And so, because of exactly where we live, we also have to get through Birmingham, on top of all that .....
..... We did it in our Ford Prefect. It's black of course, with shiny red seats, 10 h.p., three gears, with windscreen wipers which slow right down if you are climbing a hill and a boot lid which hinges down to make a sort of shelf so that you can pile suitcases on top of it. Dad covers them with an old Home Guard waterproof cape. He bought the car in 1940...... Here it is........
..... I could tell you a lot about the journey but I won't because that would be boring for you, even though I found it very interesting. So just a bit. I've done it several times before but not for four years and before that it was all pre-war and I was very little. So I can hardly remember anything about it all from those days and yesterday was a new adventure for me. I'll just tell you that we started off early so that we could get through the middle of Birmingham before it got too busy........
.....
..... And this is where we have landed up!
(If you would like to see the whole memoir, it starts here: - and continues on six subsequent, linked website pages. It's safe to click on and it's NOT commercial).
(Please note that the odd passage in some of these articles may seem vaguely familiar. I posted some original scribblings here about five years ago and these have been in part used, here and there. These are the final, very much tidied up and extended versions of anything which has gone previously)
Chris
