After a long lie-in listening to The Archer’s Omnibus (remind me to ask you all a question about that), we set off for our regular Sunday jaunt to the Market Harborough Antiques Fair. After a mug of coffee and a slice of superior cherry cake in the café, we had a good haul. A couple of 70’s Rupert Bear annuals, a Junior Science Ladybird book, a brass dressing table mirror plus a few other vital bits and bobs.
I always do a final sweep before leaving and thank goodness I did. For there, on a table of militaria, was a 1940 gas mask. 15th March 1940 to be precise, N.B.R. 466 0. Now tell me. Was there any way that The Wartime Housewife was going to leave without that? After all, one can never be too careful, Kibby Tip gives off a frightful stink to say nothing of the bone factory near Gallow, and as we know, there’s always a war on somewhere.
Better still, I can use it to frighten The Boys by re-enacting the episode of Dr Who in which a small boy is contaminated by nanogenes during an air raid and wanders about in a gas mask (which is fused to his face) asking pitifully “Are you my Mummy?”.
Yes darling, I am your Mummy. And if your mates think I’m cool for shouting at bus drivers, you wait till I turn up at the school gates wearing this.
PS. Re The Archers, is Helen getting unhealthy notions about Annette? She’s never had any luck with the boys of the 1st XI and I suspect she may be about to switch teams and head for the crease. What do you reckon?
PPS: 31.01.10. My Aunt in Canada has just e-mailed this photo to me of my father taken in 1940 and I just had to show it to you.