Saturday 2nd September 1939
There’s unease around, are we going to war? Are we not? Manchester is acting like we are already there, sand bags protecting monuments (really why bother) Air raid shelters on every corner, down dark and damp basements. Personally I think I would rather take the risk. Men in uniforms strutting around, they must be fearful about what is to happen. But as for me, I must keep a high spirit, my regulars need their tea and books. They ask no questions. I can be myself.
Met Hazel for a glass of milk and a slice of fruit cake. I love cake, there is nothing more comforting than cake. People seem to be in a panic, not Hazel. She’ll knock on Hitlers door and happily punch him on the nose. I really love her confidence. I wish it would rub off on me.
Tonight I came straight home. Normally we meet up for a drink and a dance at the Ritz, but for some reason everything closed earlier than normal. It seems everyone wants to be home with family. I can feel the tension in the air. I’m not sticking around town.
Home sweet home. Bag of chips on the way back. Home. I’m done in.
Beryl x
Rooted In Rations 