Under The Table,,,,,,,,,,,,

When I was small my parents would visit my Grandparents quite often. My uncle Ray was still at home at that time, I believe he was about 14 years older than me so was only in his 20s. He was always my favourite. I suppose because of his comparative closeness in age. I remember his first car, it was one that he had to crank. Also his first motorbike. I must have been quite a pest because I remember he would have me run up the road along side him until we got off the main road and then he would take me on the back for long rides in the country. No helmets in those days.




Anyway. Mum had 3 brothers, the other two were married. Uncle Norman and Auntie Ivy would visit quite a bit and so we spent a lot of time together. They never had kids.
In the evenings the adults would play cards. I would sit under the table and listen. They would forget I was there.
This was not long after the end of the war. To me it was ancient history if I was aware of it at all. For my parents it was very recent, Dad had got back from Japan in 1945. I was born in 1946. I would listen to the stories told about things that happened during the war. I suppose if I was not a quiet child I would not have been forgotten. Then I probably would not have heard half of what I did.
(not me by the way)
I was an only child and spent most of my time with adults. I enjoyed that. The stories I heard came in very handy when I began the family research. That's another story though.
I learned that my Grandmother had some sort of ability to "see things"............Mum stayed at her parents once Dad went off with the army. She did do her own tasks during that time, I believe one thing was the night watch. They were responsible in part for being sure no one broke the black out.



Well one night they had all gone to bed when Mum awoke to the sound of pebbles hitting her bedroom window. She thought Dad had come home on leave and got up, put on her dressing gown and as she left the bedroom she met her Mum coming out of her room. Nan said to her "Somethings happened to Harry" (my Dad)......well, there was no one down stairs or outside. They went back to bed. The next day Mum got a telegram. Dad was "missing, believed killed" and for two years she never knew what had happened to him............amazing what you hear from under the table.