Coronavirus: Our wartime government was better prepared than today’s

PERHAPS the biggest practical problem many of us have faced during the coronavirus lockdown has been the uncontrolled buying up of almost anything available, particularly in the food line, which has left many cleared shelves in the supermarkets. The situation at the start of wartime in 1939/40 was, of course, quite different. All food shops in our towns and villages were relatively small and you were served by staff at the counters.

The government of the day was evidently much better prepared than that in place at Westminster today. Within about three months of the outbreak of hostilities, not only had identity cards been issued, but along came ration books. This clearly showed that a lot of very detailed forward planning had gone on for some time since the threat of Hitler’s Germany had been recognised.

Ration books consisted of many pages of “stamps” for each and every product and you exchanged these for your allotted quota of each type of food. This must have come as something of a shock to many people, but it did mean that nothing was wasted.

Bacon 4oz; butter 4oz; margarine 4oz; one egg; sugar 8oz – these were, as far as I remember, what was allowed for each adult per week. Farmers, such as my parents, were much better off, insofar as they had many home-produced products which the government couldn’t control. Doubtless much of this would leak into the village.

I can remember visiting one of my farming uncles and seeing huge home-cured hams hanging from the farmhouse ceiling, while the occasional chicken could always volunteer for the main meal and eventually soup. Our village, Blackford was well served with shops – two grocers, Arnott and Bruce; and a greengrocer, sweet shop and post office. The latter was the domain of a lady who was a First World War widow, if I remember correctly. Her speciality was being apparently unable to give customers the correct amount of change! There was also a dairy with the cows walking into their byres through a side street.

Petrol rationing was also rapidly brought into effect. Anyone with a car could apply, but unless you were a farmer or held some particular wartime “reserved” or civil defence position, your chances of getting any were nil.

The one extra circumstance for obtaining an allowance of petrol was going to church on Sundays. If you lived out in the countryside like we did this was a handy, although small, addition. The amount of coupons issued were related to the size or horsepower of the engine involved. Our trusty Morris Ten of 1934 vintage, FS 6106, which my father had bought secondhand for £30 in 1939, served us well right through until 1950.

I seem to remember something like six farmers around the area had cars, while only two or three village dwellers did – James Arnott the grocer, who had some civil defence position; Dr Taylor of course; and perhaps a couple more. I don’t think there was any restriction on where you could go but one to have a very good reason for one’s journey when stopped at a roadblock.

The food rationing regulations were mirrored by a new set of conditions under which the agricultural industry had to operate. Before transferring to the farm on Sheriffmuir in 1936 ,my father had rented some ground in Kinross-shire where the family had lived for generations. At this location he had a lot of egg-laying poultry. His entire produce was delivered to the Co-op grocers in Kelty, and this continued after he moved to the new farm. Once a week, he would load up his three-wheeler van and set off on a delivery. Usually this was around 10 large wooden crates each containing 30 dozen eggs. This now all came to a halt. All supplies of eggs had to be delivered to Arnotts the grocer, which was appointed as a collection point for the newly set up government agency in Perth. From this, supplies were obviously distributed around the country for the one-egg-per-person ration system now in force.

. Radio show ITMA made fun of Adolf Hitler

READ MORE: How WW2 in Scotland compares to this lockdown

One unusual happening just before all this was that father bought a new, what would nowadays be called a state-of-the-art, henhouse. Unfortunately, the parents managed to lose the key. For the few days until a new one could be obtained, this small boy had to crawl into the luxury henhouse and pass out the eggs.

From this time on, new rules came into force covering the handling of sheep and cattle destined for food production; these could no longer be marketed in the traditional way, but again had to be delivered up to a government system of centralised control. This was all in some way, which I no longer remember, connected to the setting up of local Agricultural Executive Committees. Our local one was chaired by Bobby Stirling from Ardoch, and their function was to make changes which would increase food production. This resulted in my father having to start growing crops and ploughing up large chunks of land which had never been his original intention.

ONE plus point was that the AEC directed that he should be given grazing rights to a large area of cut-down woodland, known as Banks Wood, which was used as a grouse moor. This would be abruptly terminated in the late 1940s by the not-amused land owner after he had returned from beating up Rommel in North Africa!

Having got our radio shortly after the start of the war, the first thing I can remember was the totally alien voices coming from it. These were obviously English accents alright, but were what would be referred to as “BBC English”. This plummy type of speech would persist on radio until many years later when regional variations were allowed to creep in.

By far the most enjoyed programme at this time was ITMA, which would now be called a satirical. It aired at 8.30pm on Thursdays and the title stood for It’s That Man Again. This referred to Hitler and the programme went all out to make fun of him. The main man in all of this was comedian Tommy Handley. Of the many character who made a weekly appearance, off hand I can remember two, Funph, the guy from a submarine (U-Boat), and Mrs Mopp, the cleaning lady with her “Can I do you now sir?”, catchphrase. For a small boy who had never seen a radio before our one appeared, it was all great fun. This would continue until late in the 1940s when Handley suddenly passed away.

Another thing which operated all the time was the recycling of jars and bottles. Everyone took their empty, washed-out and clean bottles and jars to the grocers who paid you one, or a half, penny per item and they went off to be reused. Remember at that pre-decimal time there were 240 pennies to the pound. We had then a jam factory a few miles away in Crieff – the name, James M McNee, can still be seen above the archway on the old factory building which has now turned into housing.

One other service which is long gone was the parcel service operated by the bus companies. Buses were reliable and regular in their timetables; the Blackford village agency was operated, I think, by Mrs Kilpatrick, and for a remarkably small charge parcels were sent between any two villages and two villages and towns in Scotland. This was a very useful service which survived until, perhaps, the 1960s. No white van men then.

Scotland is in lockdown. Shops are closing and newspaper sales are falling fast. It’s no exaggeration to say that the future of The National is at stake. Please consider supporting us through this with a digital subscription from just £2 for 2 months by following this link: http://www.thenational.scot/subscribe. Thanks – and stay safe.