Rowls wrote: ↑Mon Jun 05, 2023 8:32 pm
Rationing continued well into the 50s.
"Healthiest" is a bit subjective here. The nation all smoked like chimnies so weren't really all that "healthy". The generation that grew up in the poverty of the 30s suffered from true malnutrition and diseases like rickets etc. Children and the infirm were at far higher risk from contagious diseases.
But it's a truism to say that rationing gave us the healthiest diet as a nation that we've ever had.
Reminds me of "Capstick come home"
I'll never forget that first day at t'pit.
Me an' mi father worked a 72 hour shift, then wi walked home 43 mile through t'snow in us bare feet, huddled inside us clothes med out o' old sacks.
Eventually we trudged over t'hill until wi could see t'street light twinklin' in our village.
Mi father smiled down at mi through t'icicles hangin' off his nose. "Nearly home now lad", he said.
We stumbled into t'house and stood there freezin' cold and tired out, shiverin' and miserable, in front o' t' meagre fire.
Any road, mi mam says "Cheer up, lads. I've got you some nice brown bread and butter for yer tea."
Ee, mi father went crackers. He reached out and gently pulled mi mam towards 'im by t'throat. "You big fat, idle ugly wart", he said. "You gret useless spawny-eyed parrot-faced wazzock." ('E had a way wi words, mi father. He'd bin to college, y'know). "You've been out playin' bingo all afternoon instead o' gettin' some proper snap ready for me an' this lad", he explained to mi poor, little, purple-faced mam.
Then turnin' to me he said "Arthur", (He could never remember mi name), "here's half a crown. Nip down to t'chip 'oyl an' get us a nice piece o' 'addock for us tea. Man cannot live by bread alone."
He were a reyt tater, mi father.
He said as 'ow workin' folk should have some dignity an' pride an' self respect, an' as 'ow they should come home to summat warm an' cheerful.
An' then he threw mi mam on t'fire.
We didn't 'ave no tellies or shoes or bedclothes.
We med us own fun in them days.
Do you know, when I were a lad you could get a tram down into t'town, buy three new suits an' an ovvercoat, four pair o' good boots, go an' see Frank Randall at t'Palace Theatre, get blind drunk, 'ave some steak an' chips, bunch o' bananas an' three stone o' monkey nuts an' still 'ave change out of a farthing.
We'd lots o' things in them days they 'aven't got today - rickets, diptheria, Hitler and my, we did look well goin' to school wi' no backside in us trousers an' all us little 'eads painted purple because we 'ad ringworm.
They don't know they're born today!!!
