The rain hit hard it bounced back to soak my knees, I drew the neck of my jacket tighter, looking at my feet as I rushed for shelter. It was with a hefty bump that a body collided with mine. “Sorry dear did I hurt you?” The lady said. The woman in her late eighties I’d hazard a guess, had taken shelter in the same spot but from the other side of the market cross. Here I was, fit and healthy, a snip of a girl in comparison to this lady, and she was checking if I was okay; this was what was known as … good old British fortitude.
We sat to allow the worst of the rain to stop and Mertyl began to chat as she pulled a transparent polythene rain hat free of her fine white hair. In no time at all, with a little encouragement, we were in full swing chatting and reminiscing.
Mertyl’s memory took her back to nineteen forty one; the story that follows is the one she told.
“The American servicemen had come in , they were given some five pound notes for currency before they left and little else… they were walking all the way down the Portland road in Weymouth, it is a very long road just under twenty miles long”. At this point Mertyl was gesticulating wildly, indicating the way they walked. “There were no toilets and some of the men had just arrived on the sea planes after long journeys. Their pockets full of chocolate and large five pound notes; they were so much better off than our men. The yanks were weary and had still a long walk ahead of them.
An English officer gave directions and told them they could relieve themselves behind the munitions factory if they had to, but they must be discreet or they’d find themselves in jail.”
“Well dear, my husband was the postie, and he came home on his bike to tell the tale. He was ringing his bell and all of a bother, he couldn’t wait to tell me the. He said how they rushed behind the factory desperate to relieve themselves. There were no privies and they feared what the officer said about the English bobby. It was a good fifteen minutes more walk before reaching the camp. Later that day my Percy returned to the factory where he found… My dear it is a little mucky.” She said, while wafting a lace trimmed handkerchief in front of her face.
I assured Mertyl it was okay I had heard mucky before. “Well dear you see they had no paper, the vegetation had been cleared for fear of fire behind the factory, and not even a dock leaf was in sight. Percy heard them say that they wiped their bums with the five pound notes, it was all they had, that was a lot of money you know. Five pounds could feed a family for a month in those days.” I nodded and made encouraging noises so she would continue.
“He tossed and turned all night, but before day break he put on his gardening gloves took some newspaper from the privy, got on the bike and off he went.
When he came home, I couldn’t believe my eyes he had a roll of newspaper as fat as a pillow under his arm. I boiled a pot and he put warm water and sunlight soap in the tin bath.”
I asked if she was worried that the neighbours would see.
“My dear it wasn’t odd to have a bath in the back yard then, especially in the summer, but the stench of the mucky money against the warm suds made him heave. He cleaned all fifteen notes, smoothed them all out and once they were dry … well dear, we weren’t too proud we couldn’t afford to be.”
The rain stopped, she shook my hand and waved, tugged on her hat and disappeared into the day.
I am so pleased that I carry a notebook, and that It was on me that particular Saturday morning, when I met Mertyl .
The names have been changed but the story is as true as her memories allowed. The pictures are mine except the photograph of the lady, gratefully on loan from https://pixabay.com/
“How many of you have been told extraordinary stories when you least expected.
Do you unexpectedly lure in the story tellers, the loonies on the bus, have you ever been shocked at what a stranger told you?” I’d love to hear your thoughts. And in-case you didn’t know it I just love to talk so jump in I will answer soonest.
I am the loonie on the bus telling the off beat stories!! Seriously.
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Some say I am she … but truly, I draw them to me. Great for developing stories 🤣😁
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Loved this, what a wonderful tale.
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Thanks Steph.
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What a wonderful story! Thanks for sharing!
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Your welcome. 😘
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A beautiful story Ellen. I love hearing tales from my parents and older relatives.
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Such things will not be remembered from our leavings or tales. We must write them to preserve them.
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What a lovely tale and yes you hear plenty of tales here as it is very transient..people passing through…some are very tall tales though and a pinch of salt is needed 🙂
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I checked this one and dates and location were spot on so I was happy with that.x
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Ha Ha…I didn’t doubt you 🙂
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So good when based in truth, even if the teller is dodderie she still was adamant it happened.
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This is wonderful Ellen! I agree the best stories come when you least expect it!
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I think I must have an invisible magnet for people who want to tell me their stories. I won’t be complaining.
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I find myself in situations like this Too!
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It must be writers perfume.
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Eau De Writeur!
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Zacly!
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😊
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Me three, and I love it! Mertyl’s story is So. Much. AWESOME! I’m very glad for the rain that day, and for your notebook. *grin*
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Aw thank you. X
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I love posts that give a glimpse of the past in unexpected ways. Thanks. 🙂
Under memorabilia you’ll find my mother’s memoirs. She was a secretary at a POW camp in Arizona during WWII when inmates asked for shovels to make a garden. They built a garden of tunnels and escaped. They were all recaptured. 🙂
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I will read it thank you.
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Brilliant Ellen. Mucky Mertyl stories are great. Reminds me a little of a story of my father’s after his first curry in Veeraswamy restaurant in London in the 1950s and the unfortunate misuse of his bowler hat on the train home…
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Mertyl was a character and I am damned if I didn’t wish I’d made her up. I am going to town armed with contraband to lure her , a bottle of blackberry rum I made in September. If I come across her again there will be more. That bowler sounds like nasty business to me.
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Oh indeed he never wore one again. I suspect it was just as well. He never took to curry either.
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Haha! They probably didn’t have a clue of the value, just given the normal wage, which was high because our economy was down the pan.
1944 When female teachers asked for equal pay as they took £3 .7/6 a week and men a lot more (not allowed to discus “men’s incomes) Churchill rejected it on the grounds of impertinence.
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Great story! Now, I just had to go and check what a fiver would be worth today and you’re talking about maybe £150! I’m with Juli. I’d have not wiped, suffered the indignity, tossed the knickers later and bought some silk camis! I wonder if anyone ever queried their sudden turn in fortunes. That would have taken some explaining. 🙂
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In reality it would be worth a heck of a lot more, £225.06 each note. Though you’d really be lucky to get 11p for one now.
The Average wage in England was £6 a week, a female engineer took home £3 10/ a week. So how shocked would you be to know they wiped with a weeks wage…
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I must have used a useless site. £225! Not a chance I would have wiped with it. And I’d have wiped the floor with my husband if he’d have spent a week’s wages on hygiene. Still would come to think of it. Maybe the American lads didn’t really know at all.
I hope you meet her again. She sounds as if she would have some more good craic to impart. 🙂
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Thanks for visiting my blog–Cultural Quirks–and hope you come back.
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Oh I will see you soon.😇
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LOL I don’t think I could have wiped my bum with those notes no matter HOW desperate I became. Great story!
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Haha! If you were desperate maybe… 😉
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I love striking up conversations with anybody and everybody, known or not. The unknown ones are extra interesting. Love this story. Waste not; want not.
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I told Mertyl I would write this, but not until after the story was told. That way it wouldn’t be embellished. She was chuffed, as we say here. 😄
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😀 😀 😀 I imagine Mertyl smiling to herself. Am I right?
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She said I quote ” *sniff* My girl, that is not a patch on the stories I could tell.” *grin*
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*grin* *chortle*
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Reblogged this on Barrow Blogs: .
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Judith this was very generous of you, i send great thanks for the support in passing it on. 😇
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15 5-pound notes – who cares if they were mucky, we all know: Non olet. Money does not smell (for those who missed that Asterix-volume). Though I am convinced your father could tell a different story. But what was good enough for a roman emperor cannot be bad for a “mere commoner”.
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The sight that dear Percy gazed upon , bums bent over with five pound notes ready to wipe, no wonder he didn’t sleep well; not something you would see every day. 😇
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I bet the American soldiers did not know how much money that was – the average American soldier was not a rich boy himself. Mostly farmer sons. Never been outside their country.
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But they were rich in comparison, England was a country with little or no money who had been at war two years and had very little earnings with the men away.😇 But thank you for pointing out that they may not have understood the worth of our currancy.
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What a fantastic story. Meeting Mertyl must have made your day. I can see you smiling as you tell this story.
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I love people especially those with stories to tell. I don’t go looking for them I just take the opportunities afforded me. 😉
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Great story and well written. I am the old one telling the stories now. :o)
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Patricia I am usially the old one telling stories but there is always someone who makes you feel young.. Thank you so much for stopping by.
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What a fun story! ☺ Thank you for reinforcing the excellent habit of carrying a notebook at all times!
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A neccesity even if somewhat uncomfortable at times… 😉
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This was so great! I get all kinds of interesting stories told to me across the bar (I’m a bartender in Orlando, so I see people from all over the world). I usually don’t have the time to sit there and hear them through, though. It almost makes me want to work somewhere less busy, but that would be less money!
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A note book secreted about you person… there’s always a way 😇
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Or, one of those little voice recorders. Just set it on the bar when someone waxes nostalgic. 🙂
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Brought me back to my children’s sitter we ‘adopted’ when they were babies. She was an English war bride who was ful of stories. Loved this!
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I am pleased it woke a memory and thank you for your comments😇
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Thank you, Ellen.
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You are most welcome kim.
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Reblogged this on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog and commented:
Love this story 👍😃
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I am pleased you like it, not often do we get little gems, sweet pieces of humour and real life dropped in our hands. 😇
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The notebook in your pants and the pencil in your bra came in handy Ellen LOL 😄😄😄
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They certainly did. 😂😁😀😄
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👍😄😄😄
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What a great story! My mother, 91, often tells me about dancing with American servicemen during the war two, called Sam, made a big impact on her and still does to this day. I tried to find him some years back, but had no luck.
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Well Stevie I think that finding him could have wobbled the pedestal she raised him on. Our memories seem to grow and bloom into wonderous memories or fade and disappear with time. The stories your mother has should be documented as ladies of their making will soon be memories. They had fight, stamina and fortitude and knew how to “put their back in to it”.
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I’ve heard the stories so often that I could write a book!
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Now there’s a plan!😇
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Great idea for a post! I love unexpected stories 🙂
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So do I and when they just plop uninvited in to your lap, it is even better. T hank you for coming 😇
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I do tend to talk to people a lot and sometimes it gets a good conversation going with a stranger. Your story is a little more interesting than ones I’ve heard, though 😉
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