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I was born in a tiny little mining village called Annitsford in the North of England. Annitsford is located exactly halfway between Blyth and Newcastle and when I lived there it was surrounded by coal mines. We spent many a cold night walking the railway lines picking up the pieces of coal that fell off the trains. We used them to keep our fire burning since that was the only method of heating and cooking that we had.
We didn't have any money, but everyone in England was in the same boat after World War II. What I remember most (and this is something that influences me, even to this day) is the way my Mother had to make every penny count. "Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves," was her favourite saying.
My mother, two sisters, and myself lived in a small two room downstairs flat (apartment). It is hard to describe our home. Each house was divided into two separate homes, one upstairs and one downstairs, with separate entrances. Because we lived in the lower flat we had a front door. The houses were built in one long continuous row. Each house had its own back yard. This was actually a square of concrete surrounded by a high brick wall. Both families shared the yard. The toilets and the coal houses were at the bottom of the yard (got pretty cold in the winter time I can tell you). The yard had a big wooden door which opened out onto the cobblestone street.
We had no hot water. Everything was cooked on the open coal fireplace, either directly on the flames or in the black leaded oven beside the fire. How on earth my mother managed to bake in that thing I do not know. She had no knobs to adjust the temperature. I think she just knew by the size and heat of the flames whether the oven was ready or not.
Our bathroom was a big tin tub which was dragged out on bath night, placed in front of the fire and filled with jugs of hot water. Everyone took turns to get their bath. Since I was the baby I usually got to go first. (Ironically my bathtub stopped up recently and I was forced to bale the water out with a dishpan. I hadn't thought about our tin tub for years but I had a sudden mental image of my mother baling the water out of our tin tub and carrying it outside to wash the yard with...nothing was wasted in England after the war).
I can remember going to the Co-op to get groceries. We had a coupon book and you had a certain number of coupons to shop with because everything was in limited supply. My mother could take two eggs, a cup of milk, some bread, and feed the whole family. If someone had coupons for something they didn't want then they simply swapped with someone else to get what they wanted. If my mother could see how much food I waste now she would be horrified!!
It is a funny thing you know because, even though we were very poor and had very few luxuries, we were happy. Everyone was in the same boat so I guess we just didn't realize how underprivileged we were.
We lived just seven miles from Seaton Sluice, a pretty nice seaside village, and we went there every chance we got. If we had threepence (about five cents) we could take a twopenny bus ride and walk the last mile in order to have a penny ice cream cone; or we could ride the whole way and not get ice cream. Very simple choices - the ice cream always won out of course!
Other things I remember about my childhood are the blue bells in Plessey Woods and the daffodils at Arcot Hall in Seaton Deleval. We used to swipe the daffodils and run like rabbits in case we got caught. Wordsworth himself would have been impressed with those gorgeous flowers, and there was no way that we could resist them. The blue bells in the woods looked like a thick blue carpet that spread for miles and miles. We used to just sit in the middle of them and admire them as we ate picnics. Funny thing, we never once felt unsafe or threatened when we were alone by ourselves like that.
Methinks the world was a much safer place back then.