Preston’s Second World War Stories

Photo of my father, his 1944 Diary, and my National Identity Card

Pamela E Potter

I first met my father in 1945, when I was two. I have vivid memories of this time; I remember hiding from him at first, wondering who this man was.

Rationing of food meant if you did not eat what was put in front of you, you went hungry. Choice was limited, fresh fruit was for Christmas. Everyone helped each other and nothing was wasted. We had a bath once a week with limited hot water shared by the family. We were posh, we had a bath – many still had a metal tub in front of the fire.

There was so much sadness for the soldiers who did not make it home, but I also remember laughter, reading, games and making the best of what we had.