A recent acquaintance--who oddly shares my family name--sent me a picture of her school, which she photographed in 1999 when the school (not the building) was 300 years old. The school, Burlington Danes, is in west London, England, and the picture shows the school on a grey, drab day, and she lamented that she never managed to get there on a sunny day! Some would say that in England that will never happen. I know better.Nevertheless, she kept the picture and sent it to me, as a spur, in my quest to find someone who went to the school nearly 50 years ago, whom I knew as a 6 year old newly arrived in England. She told me that the school, as she had photographed it (shown alongside), most resembled the school in war-time when she attended. The school is really non-descript but the memories evoked by the picture are really vivid. She went on to say:
"My own memories of that time were how drab everything was - no one had time or money to spare on painting or cleaning - all our energies were devoted to 'the war effort' - it consumed everyone. My first real experience of colour and variety was a week in a Belgium seaside resort in 1947 and although I enjoyed it I was also rather angry that there was plenty of food in the shops, cream cakes in the cafes and even in Brussels one did not see any sign of bombing.
Food rationing in England in the late 1940s was as tight as, if not tighter than, during the war and London was very grey and battered. Now I think the shortage of cream cakes is probably responsible for my life-long yearning for meringues."I don't want to elaborate on the sentiments, and let them stand alone.
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