EAST TRENT CHURCHES
Besthorpe, Clifton, Collingham,
Girton, Harby, Holme, Langford, South Scarle, Thorney,  Winthorpe

 

Archdeacon's Tale IV
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The Archdeacon's Tale!
(A World War II Story)
By J Eric Ashton

Part IV:  Bath Night!

"And have you heard that Buckingham Palace has been bombed? A direct hit, they said. The Queen has declared that she now feels like one of us. Well, she's lovely; and she is welcome to come and have a cup of tea with me anytime!  A wicked old business isn't it Ducks?"

Gladys was in the habit of taking her weekly private bath as regular as clockwork at six-o'clock each Friday evening, in the regulation nine inches of water - "'Waste Not Want Not', we are told".  Much as her friends tried to dissuade her, because of the danger of being caught out (or is it caught in?) during the raids, she persisted. She exclaimed that the Hun, even if Adolph himself was flying a plane, would not be allowed to alter her habits of a lifetime. And anyway, the Lord would take care of her as he had always done. 

One Friday evening, at the accustomed hour, Gladys was preparing for her bath-time. She made a final adjustment to the blackout curtains - then filled a galvanised-metal bath with water, in her sitting room, and popped an extra lump of scarce coal ("it's like trying to buy diamonds!") on the grate to make a nice warm fire. Luke had gone out to sit 'sentry' on 'his' blast-wall. The wireless was switched on ready for the news, and she sang along with the tune they were playing:

There'll be Bluebirds over
The white cliffs of Dover,
Tomorrow, just you wait and see . . .

Soon it was news time. First the comforting chimes of Big Ben, then the six standard pips, followed by a well-known voice announcing: "This is the BBC Home Service. Here is the Six O'clock News, and this is Wilfred Pickles reading it." She liked Wilfred Pickles but admitted that he did have a bit of an accent. She sort of preferred Alvar Liddell, or Leslie Phillips; and Jim's favourite used to be John Snagg. She had photos of these 'Megastars', together with King George and Queen Elizabeth, and of course Mr Winston Churchill, on the wall near the radio. She wanted to get a Union Flag to add to the display, but "you couldn't buy one for love nor money, dearie!" So her granddaughter, a member of the local Brownie Pack, coloured one for her with crayons on paper, and this was displayed alongside the King and Queen. ("Make sure you put it the right way up Gran, broad white stripe uppermost.") 

Gladys was looking forward to the Liverpudlian Tommy Handley and his ITMA (It's That Man Again) programme later that evening. "Liverpool's taking a pasting from Jerry you know". ITMA was her highlight of the week, with characters like the German spy Funf, played by Jack Train - 'This is Funf speaking'. Then there's Horace Percival's Middle Eastern vendor, Ali Ooop, with his catchphrase: 'I go, I come back'; and Mrs Mopp, played by Dorothy Summers, with her untimely comic interruptions: 'Can I do you now sir? and ‘TTFN (Ta ta for now)'. Then there's that lovely tipsy Colonel Chinstrap, played by Jack Train, who twists every remark into accepting an offer of a drink with his response ‘I don’t mind if I do!’ And there's that up and coming actress, Hattie Jacques - as the greedy schoolgirl Sophie Tuckshop, with her giggle and catchphrase, 'But I'm alright now'. "The whole thing's a rattling good kick-back at Jerry, love, with lots of fun. But that's for later".

She assiduously laid out her best white towel on the floor at the side of the bath, to step on and dry herself afterwards. The soap was placed within easy reach ("Like everything else - it's going to be rationed soon you know!"). She then placed her gasmask and her handbag containing her identity-card and ration book, nearby. She poured in the final kettle of hot water off the hob, and all was ready. Carefully, very, very carefully, she peeled off her precious newly invented nylon stockings from The States. "Bought from Dave, down the stalls. Don't tell anyone love; on the black market. Cost an arm and a leg! Plus double coupons". Then she disrobed and climbed in - her weekly tub of sheer luxury!

On cue, the undulating air-raid sirens wailed their fateful warning . . .

Follow the link below for the final part of The Archdeacon's Tale!

Like to see the Final Part V 'Flying High!' now? . . .

The Archdeacon's Tale! © Dr J Eric Ashton 2004. All rights reserved.

 

 

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