Spuds

When Kitty and I decamped from London to South Mimms during the blitz (see blog for 8/8/2010) Uncle would load us down with eggs and fresh vegetables from his garden. Things which were in short supply in town. We would travel to and fro by Green Line bus. These coaches were much beloved by Londoners. They ran frequently from Central London out into the country - north, south, east and west at a reasonable fare.
On one occasion we were waiting early on Monday morning for the bus back to Victoria laden down with our spoils. A large paper carrier bag was full of small new potatoes. A real luxury. (No plastic bags in those days.) It started to rain. The bus was late and we waited and waited. The rain got heavier and heavier and so did the bag. We finally got on the bus looking like drowned rats. We arrived at Victoria railway station just in the rush hour. We took a short cut through the station Kitty carrying the now sodden carrier bag. As we were crossing the concourse, dodging hurrying commuters, the bottom of the bag finally gave up the struggle and dozens and dozens of small potatoes short all over the ground. Kitty took off her jacket and we started to gather them up into the jacket. I must give those busy Londoners their due. Several people stopped and helped us pick up the potatoes. Looking even more like drowned rats we finally reached Kitty's homewhere the potatoes were greeted with open arms, even if we weren't. I have to say they were delicious cooked with one sausage each which Mrs. Jones had managed to scrounge from the butcher, the tiny ration of meat being kept for Sundays. It is really true what happens in the butcher's shop in "Dads Army".