I started
cycling in war-torn London. I wasn't old
enough to be called up and I vividly recall the carnage of the blitz, V1s and
V2s. Food was on ration and in short
supply but, as I had a strenuous job (Thames Lighterman), I received double
rations.
Cycling clubs
lacked young men who were off fighting for peace and therefore clubs were
made up of older members from denuded clubs. When the boys came home they were so
lean. One, I recall was so thin, a
"bag of bones", hollow cheeks - the colour of a lemon. He had been a prisoner of the Japanese.
Mass
motorisation was still to come and you could traverse major highways in
complete safety. If you saw four
vehicles it was considered to be a traffic jam!
Memories of
happy days.
Derek Buttle
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