Jambusters (28 page)

Children got ten extra coupons over the flat rate in acknowledgement that they were smaller and therefore their clothes needed less material but also that they were growing and therefore had a need for more changes of clothes during the year. A major problem for parents with young children was the shortage of shoes. Leather became scarce and it was more difficult to mend shoes, especially ones that had been worn out by energetic youngsters, than clothes. Collections of shoes and wellington boots for evacuee children were a recurring theme in minute books, as was making clothes for them.

Norman Longmate was critical of schools who, despite clothes rationing, insisted on school uniform. He wrote of the difficulties faced by parents who had to sacrifice a year’s worth of clothing coupons just to equip their son or daughter to go to grammar school. However, it was his own school for which he reserved the sternest criticism:

. . . which dressed its 800 boys in a ridiculous, uncomfortable and unhygienic Tudor ensemble of ankle-length gown, knee breeches, long, thick, yellow stockings and vast but shapeless shirts without collar or cuffs. A less practical and more wasteful outfit it would have been hard to devise, but though the school did allow new boys to dress normally for their first year or two, the rest of us continued to look as if we were expecting the Spanish Armada rather than the German Army and almost all our coupons were simply appropriated to maintain this fatuous tradition.
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Non-rationed items included boiler suits, workmen’s overalls, hats and caps, sewing thread, boot- and shoelaces, ribbons and other fabrics less than three inches in width, elastic, lace, sanitary towels, braces, suspenders, garters, clogs and blackout dyed cloth. However these were never in plentiful supply and as the war progressed some things became impossible to find. Headgear, other than that made from scarves or ‘incorporating handkerchiefs’, was also exempt. Regulations governing the number of pleats in a skirt, the width of sleeves and collars, the number of buttons (3), the height of heels (2 inches), the size of pockets and the length of men’s socks were introduced along with a raft of items that were either restricted or forbidden. Production of non-essential items such as jewellery was prohibited altogether. ‘From 1941 onwards production of hollowware – pans, kettles, buckets etc – was permitted under licences which were only granted for essential items made to approved specifications. In 1942 this policy was extended to a wide range of consumer goods. Manufacture of pottery and pencils was controlled and many items such as floor coverings, domestic electric appliances, lighters and umbrellas could be produced under licence only, with output frequently being standardized.’
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Fripperies such as jewellery, metal toys, ornamental glassware and fancy goods were abolished. It is little wonder that people looked and felt drab, grey and tired by the end of the war.

The issue of men’s socks became a hot topic and reached the highest levels. In April 1943 Mr Colman MP asked the President of the Board of Trade in a House of Commons debate whether he planned to relax the restrictions on the length of men’s socks, as he feared traders would have difficulty in disposing of short socks and other ‘style-controlled garments’ after the war.

Mr Hugh Dalton replied: ‘No, Sir. The reduction of the leg length of socks to nine inches saves a great deal of wool and the manufacture of longer socks for the civilian market cannot be permitted. I am glad to have this opportunity to give an assurance that effective steps will be taken at the right time to assist traders to overcome any such difficulty as my Hon. Friend has in mind.’
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The reason that men’s socks had been restricted to just nine inches was to provide more wool for infants’ clothes and nightwear.

‘Beating the Clothes Coupon’ was a very popular talk that was given in various forms up and down the country. The land girls, who had less experience of mending clothes and less time to do so, were sometimes invited to this talk, which they found useful. Welford in Northamptonshire had regular visits from their young farm workers who liked to learn about how to use old clothes, or how to rope-sole slippers or make shirts from flour bags, while Welsh Frankton in Shropshire taught them how to make use of old mackintoshes. It was not just the land girls who wanted to know how to economise and save their clothing coupons: mothers were anxious to make as much clothing as they could for their growing children and evacuee visitors. Lamplugh held a competition for the best article of clothing for a child made from a flourbag. It was won by a woman who had made a boy’s shirt
which, the judge wrote, ‘would have been no disgrace to the smartest tennis party’.
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The government’s hope was that people would reuse and repair old garments rather than insisting on buying new outfits. The WI offered advice on how to give old clothes a new lease of life including rubbing hot bran into tweed skirts and jackets, cleaning white materials with ground rice and using powdered magnesia to clean delicate fabrics such as lace, embroideries, white kid and suede gloves. Oil of eucalyptus would revivify jaded silk and faded crêpe de chine while potato pulp could be employed to clean cloth gaiters and leggings. Grandmother’s recipes for cleaning clothes were proposed but sounded very expensive: ‘For cleaning silk . . . mix well together three ounces of strained honey, two ounces of castile soap and half a pint of gin.’ As knitting patterns published by the WI were popular during the war, so were clothes patterns, though the problem was that it was difficult to get material. From 1941 onwards only 20 per cent of the amount of cotton and 40 per cent of the rayon that had been available prior to rationing was available. It was time for Make Do and Mend.

Make Do and Mend is one of the most famous catchphrases of the Second World War. The Board of Trade had consulted women’s groups about introducing the campaign, designed to encourage people to save buying something new by reusing old clothes. The object of the campaign was to persuade householders that clothes-carelessness was effectively sabotage and should be discouraged as vigorously as food waste, since the same argument about merchant shipping applied to clothes as it did to food – every bit saved could spare the life of a sailor and help another ship to land with materials for the war. The government used all media at its disposal to get over its urgent message. There were advertisements in newspapers, women’s magazines and on
the radio. Exhibitions, leaflets, advice centres and 12,000 formal classes were held to bring the message home to Britain’s housewives. There were even films screened in cinemas. The Board of Trade organised an exhibition with Harrods to show housewives how to turn something old into some useful and new. In a propaganda broadcast several garments were shown, made from old coats, patchwork material and even a dressing gown fashioned out of an old dust sheet. The pièce de résistance was a two-piece black costume made by a woman from her husband’s old dress suit. The commentator on the film summed up Make Do and Mend assuring women that ‘all garments made in Make Do and Mend are entirely exclusive’ and warning the men to ‘lock up your favourite old clothes before you leave home in the morning’. The film ended on the shot of a middle-aged businessman in bowler hat carrying an umbrella walking down the street in long-johns and a shirt.

Women in village institutes tackled making do and mending in most inventive ways and the record books are of course full of competitions and demonstrations for garments, slippers, gloves and accessories made from salvaged material. Rural women had been used to reusing their clothes and mending things, so that the campaign simply endorsed their habits. The WI differentiated between Make Do and Mend and thrift. Thrift was prominent from the outbreak of the war and included different examples of how to make things, including meals and utensils, as cheaply as possible. When it came to thrift the WI was remarkably energetic and infinitely imaginative and were always keen to share their discoveries with other institutes. Holton-le-Moor WI in Lincolnshire had a roll call on soap saving and one member came up with a recipe for wartime soap. A member of Thornton Curtis WI, just down the road, made a pair of economy slippers from a home-cured lamb skin and brought them to a meeting to show
other members. Burrough on the Hill’s WI in Leicestershire had a competition to see who could make a child’s dress for 1s 6d while at Harby WI in Nottinghamshire a thrift event produced examples of mittens made from stockings, coal gloves from old winter hats, a jumper made from scraps of wool, a sprinkler made from an old bottle with a carefully pierced lid. Members of Taplow WI in Buckinghamshire made babies’ sleeping bags out of men’s flannel trousers and bottle covers from boys’ trousers.

A thrift exhibition in 1943 showed just how inventive some people could be when it came to reusing materials.

The exhibition shows really handsome gloves made from chamois leathers, and the odd pieces left over from these washleather gloves have been joined together to make a leather for the shining of silver or the washing of windows. Women have made embroidered handkerchiefs from pieces of flour bags and one beautiful little garment with three rows of hem stitching has the blue lettering of the original left on the back to convince those who would not otherwise believe that the material really came from flour bags.
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Also on display were a shawl made from unpicked wool from a land girl’s stockings, sandals made from odd strips of leather, a plaid frock made from thirty-two travellers’ samples and handkerchiefs made from surplus linen.

Members of Preston Patrick and Preston Richard WI in Cumbria were evidently highly skilled at working with their hands, as demand for their knitted garments came in regularly from 1939 onwards, with letters of thanks flowing in equal measure. Betty Prickett, their honorary secretary, found references in their record books to a great variety of different activities. In addition to knitting, sewing and making bandages they were also
asked to supply walking sticks for wounded servicemen, though it is not clear from the old minutes whether these were to be made from wood gathered locally or if these were unwanted or spare sticks. Sometimes only seven women were able to attend meetings, most likely because of haytime or harvesting, Betty suggested, but they still managed to produce large quantities of knitted goods and bandages, parcels for servicemen and raise money for the Red Cross, the local hospital and the WI ambulance appeal.

Glove- and slipper-making demonstrations had been popular before the war and became even more so once Make Do and Mend became more than just a byword. Demonstrators from local colleges and the handicraft guild were in high demand throughout the early years of the war and minute were briming with references to this or that demonstration of making felt slippers or leather gloves. One member of Rearsby WI in Leicestershire was heard to sigh with relief when told they would be offered three classes on glove-making: ‘such a pleasant change from the knitting needles and leather gloves
are
wanted’.

Although the WI embraced Make Do and Mend wholeheartedly it did not mean that they were prepared to accept Mr Lyttelton’s idea of being badly dressed. Demonstrations and lectures on topics such as make-up, hairdressing and dressmaking continued to be very popular. They learned about city fashions such as make-up made from boot polish, sugar and water mixture for hair-setting lotion or using a line of gravy browning or cocoa on their legs to simulate stockings. Advertisements for the Eugene permanent wave continued to appear in
Home & Country
throughout the war even though advertisements for clothes, stockings and underwear disappeared from the pages by 1942. Most women wore hats and competitions for best-dressed hats with fresh flowers were popular summer events. Edith Jones
liked to dress up her hats and when she could she would buy another accoutrement. On 13 October 1943 she wrote in her diary: ‘Italy declares war on Germany. I put new flower in my hat.’

By the time Edith wrote this entry the country had been at war for four years. In her annual report for her institute she said: ‘The year 1943 has been one of quiet progress for our Institute which seems to have turned the corner after the difficult times experienced at the beginning of the war.’ Listing the competitions, talks and demonstrations she concluded: ‘The outstanding competition was for a shopping bag made from oddments. 20 members joined the course of Make and Mend classes which were very popular.’ Hers is not the only annual report to mention a settling down after such turbulent times in the early years of the war. It had become a way of life and the extra duties taken on by WI members had gained a pattern within the strange structure of their weeks and months. Anxiety was never far from the surface, however. For the first two years of the war Edith’s nephew, Leonard, who had lived with them since 1926, was on fire duty in Liverpool and was given farming leave at Red House Farm during haymaking, harvest or other busy times of the farming year, which were always recorded with great pleasure. She took him to whist drives, they went on long walks and he helped her in the garden and with the hens when he had more than a day at home. And his leaving always elicited a sigh of sadness in her diary: ‘Len returns by train. How quickly the week has gone, he feels the benefit of the rest after so many disturbances,’ she wrote after one visit. But in 1942 he went abroad and she did not see him again for three years. After this the war cropped up ever more frequently in her diaries.

Mrs Milburn was equally conscious of the war keeping her son from her. Alan had been taken prisoner at Dunkirk and the
terror and uncertainty she felt until she heard he was alive are evident in her diaries. Then, in mid-July 1940, she learned where he was and that she would be able to write to him: ‘How different was this morning’s awakening! No dead weight of woe hanging over one, such as we have had the past six or eight weeks. The war? Yes, but not the war and the anxiety about Alan in the same way. Everyone overwhelms us with warm-heartedness.’
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On 28 May 1943 she wrote: ‘Three years today since Alan was made a prisoner of war – but it’s no use moaning.’ Alan was sent regular parcels both by his mother and by the Red Cross, so that he was well supplied with comforts and reading material from home.