Living with the germans - carrying twigs

I used to enjoy ‘twigging’ for wood for the fire, because there wasn’t a lot of coal. There was a bit of coal but not a lot, so we used to go down the Fosse Andre. There was a nursery there and we used to go down there and collect it. You could only take twigs officially, but my mother used to use my old pram. I can remember going down one time and Guernsey men were cutting the trees and logs, so it was two in the lorry and one over the wall! My pram had a false bottom - you know the old fashioned prams with a false bottom and the middle part that came out - and the logs were going in there with twigs on the top. I always remember, this was when we had had to move to Victoria Road,
I had a sack of twigs, kindling, sort of small bits and pieces, which wasn’t heavy. It was getting a bit late and my mother said to me — go on ahead, because your father will be getting worried — and I remember walking up through Brock Road and this little German approached me and said — ‘Your mutter’ - Your mother - so I said — ‘Down the road ‘- ‘Too heavy for little girl, I carry’. Well I was worried that he was going to pinch it! Well he took the sack and it must have been awful because I was hanging onto the back of it — he’s not going to get my sack of twigs! My poor father’s face ! He was standing at the gate in Victoria Road — “What the …?”
“He’s only helping me carry it!” I said.
I suppose I must have been about 9 or 10 then. He was genuinely concerned that I was carrying a heavy sack, they were like that.
JEAN BUDDEN

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