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This review is from: Bombsites and Lollipops: My 1950s East End Childhood (Paperback)
I was very disappointed with this book-perhaps because of the author's 'privileged' background supplied by her roguish & hated father-when others were literally starving. The book was all about Me, Me Me (the author) and to hell with anyone else. She was so spoilt and still appears not to understand how fortunate she was, although admits she was a selfish person. She didn't even want to visit her grandparents!
Her father's bent & alcoholic ways provided largesse for his own family whilst others lived on the bread line. As a village child born at the beginning of the 2nd world war my memories are of neighbours helping each other with what little we all had. We were also bombed quite often. We didn't know what fresh fruit was, everything was rationed for years. Unless you kept chickens, eggs were something horrid tasting kept in a jar of isinglass. What was meat? Something rarely seen. At 16yrs I had to wear my grandma's cut down dark brown dress after she died, just as I'd had to wear my sister's hand me downs from childhood. The brown dress 'lost' me my first serious boyfriend, fortunately I realised he was the loser as he couldn't see the person beneath the horrid dress-and more to the point my loving parents (who couldn't afford to drink & were not so inclined anyway taught me what really mattered in life and it isn't in having all you want.It is in sharing & what you do FOR OTHERS!