Born in 1946

Back in 1946, we weren’t quite in the sunlit uplands yet, but there was this incredible sense that the world was waking up again after a long, grey sleep. If you stepped outside that winter, you’ll remember it was bitterly cold, yet everyone was huddled around the wireless listening to the Light Programme, perhaps humming along to Al Jolson’s ‘The Anniversary Song.’ We were still living on rations—I remember the excitement when bread was actually added to the ration list that July, which sounds barmy now, but we just got on with it.

A treat was a pint of mild and maybe a dance if the local hall was open. You’d head to the cinema to see *A Matter of Life and Death* and for a few hours, the bombed-out streets didn't matter. Television was the big news, of course; the BBC restarted its service in June, and we all crowded into the one house on the street lucky enough to have a set just to see the victory parade.

Kids were still playing in the ruins with skipping ropes or hand-me-down lead soldiers, blissfully unaware of the New Towns Bill or the birth of the NHS being debated. It was a year of powdered eggs and scratchy woollen vests, but goodness, we were glad to be there.