Saturday 9th September 1939.
Joan met me today on my dinner break. She was filling me in about her brother’s and the training they are doing. She doesn’t exactly know where they are at the moment, everything seems to be moving fast.
Maybe it’s best no one knows too much. Spies are everywhere, so they say.
We normally go out for a dance on a Saturday night, but no one feels in the mood, even Joan. She’s up for a good time any day of the week. Hopefully next week we’ll have a dance.
I love my job, I really do. But with the War that’s up on us, I’d rather be close to home, especially with Nan getting older. I just don’t have the heart or courage to tell Norman I want to leave. He loves his little shop. So do I, but Manchester is surely on his list to attack.
I stayed home tonight, Nan still wouldn’t tell me what she was up to in the loft. She’s in a weird mood and not wanting to talk about why.
I read in the garden for a little while, taking in the last few weeks of evenings being lighter. It was so peaceful, how can we be at peace while that man is terrorising Europe?
Ham, egg and peas for supper. Apple pie with custard.
Beryl. X
Rooted In Rations 