V.E. Day May 8th 1945
I had planned to post this story when I had completed exhausted all the WWII tales I could remember. But, just like all “Best Laid Plans” life intervenes and I’ve decided to post it now.
To give you a bit of a background
it’s one that I’ve presented many times as a Toastmaster, (fully garbed to
resemble the heroine). I’ve submitted it to various contests and won a number of
prizes, not the least of which was a Barry Manilow record! So I hope you enjoy it too.
On May the 8th 1945 I
was a twelve year old girl living in London England. Like any other twelve year old I was not very
impressed with my parents, especially my extroverted and well liked
Mother. Frankly, she embarrassed me and
never more so than on that day.
May the 8th you see
was Mother’s birthday! It must have felt
to her that the gods had given her the best gift ever: the end of the war, the
end of the bombing, and eventually the end of rationing. What a gift!
It was time to celebrate as only she knew how.
She began by commandeering
the bicycle of a passing cyclist. One which I’m sure he was happy to relinquish
once he saw the outfit in which Mother planned to ride. From some hidden treasure stash she had
donned a large pair of bright red knickers to accompany her white blouse and
just to keep it thematic she had tied a blue something or other around her
waist.
Thus dressed, to everyone’s
delight except mine, this very cockney Britannia rode up and down the streets
of our neighbourhood announcing the wonderful news of the end of the war.
This exertion could only last so long. She eventually became tired and thirsty, and
in Britain there is no better place to slake ones thirst than in the local pub.
The stop-over at the pub rather than dampening her enthusiasm
filled her with even more fervour for the occasion.
Not content with her mere personal adornment
she proceeded to decorate our rented row house.
With broad artistic strokes and some left over paint she applied wide
stripes of red, white and blue to all the surfaces on the outside of our house
that she could reach. It certainly made
a timely patriotic statement!
As I recall her strokes were not as straight as I've depicted. Remember where she had been! |
But time being what it is: it marches on. Six years later when a prospective beau
walked me home after a movie show I learned to overcome my embarrassment and
hone my story telling skills as I proudly explained why I lived in a faded
flag.
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