A LONDON LETTER

Evening Star, Issue 24334, 24 October 1942, Page 8

A LONDON LETTER

[By M. S. PmsiMEK.] HOP-PICKING HOLIDAY. Most of us would call it hard work; not so the Cockney, who for years has looked •to this financial labour of love as the annual outing for “ the wife and'kids.” I’ve met slum children in the East, who from early August talk “ ’ops.” Scanty wardrobes are washed and ironed, toys arc patched up (as the very small ones must have occupation while the big members hoppick), the fare money slowly mounts up, till at last comes the groat day. Mrs Tommy Atkins had to manage without the help of her husband this year; “ He’s in

Kgypi,'' she volunteered, "but 1 ain’t going to be beat by that there ’illcr.” Four special trains, or often more, arc arranged to lake hop-pickers to the Kentish fields. Not so long ago it was a makeshift short of life, overcrowding, not much water, difficult cooking ’and so on. But who cured? There was at least plenty of fresh air, and a jolly sort of gypsy existence in between working hours. Now you will find proper huts (some even of brick), and quite a. number of modern conveniences, including, naturally, tish and chip’ places and canteens. So Mrs T. A. set off gaily with her four children, aged from four months to 13 years, most of their wordly goods packed in a pram and a soap box on wheels. It was on arrival at .Hopville that the good lady' and hundreds of others lasted the woes of war. Hitherto transport of their luggage had been easy enough, and cheap, too, but now only a few' hawkers’ little carls were available, with prices much too high. “Take it. or leave it, Ma,” replied hawkers to female lamentations. In the end three shared (lie cart, at a rate of 10s each for a journey of less than 10 minutes. It was good to sec her after a few hours of settling in, white curtains at the windows of her hut, a frying pan meal ready in the little outside kitchen served on a neat table, and even palliasses ready stuffed with straw. This year the camp consists mainly of women and children, as husbands arc in the forces, though here and there one conics across an aged man. A delightful ironic touch is given by a notice, cheek by jowl to a brewery. “ Milk is good for you.” The crop is only fair this year, and as already beer is pretty difficult to get anywhere now (as a rule pubs shut one or two days, and you see frequent notices, “ sold out ”), prospects for a glass are not cheerful. FLAT-HUNTING. A friend of mine, one of (ho thousands “ evacuated ” by the Government in the early days of the war, lias had notice to return to London, as conditions are now considered safe enough for Civil Service aeiivities (at least many of them). “ I’ra simply desperate,” she’ said. “We let our house for a long term when wc had to leave London, and, of course, we can’t l&urn the tenants out. Flats I hat were empty are snapped up, at least the small ones. None of us wants a huge affair with no charwomen available, restrictions in fuel, dearth of wood to light tires with, and all sorts of other little nuisances. So please help mo.” Being resident in the town moans that yon arc on the spot for the race as a vacancy occurs, won quite literally by the swiftest. You just take the first bus or underground, tear off to the agency, and grab the key; telephone acceptance on the spot. And that’s that. It’s just no use “ thinking it over.” Agents send yon long hopeful list of rooms and flats to let, all taken before you can even see them. In desperation we went (o a final one, and found to our joy that there was a vacancy in about two months, but that someone was already after it. Half an hour saw’ us on the spot; a cursory glance sufficient to ring up and say, “Please keep.it for ns now.” Hard on (he other (.respective tenant, but when you've suffered long enough you are hardened as regards other people. Actually (his little flat shows that (here are some well within average pockets. For £57 per. annum, my friend has a silling room, bedroom, nice little kitchen, all conveniences including electric plugs, constant hot water (will it be allowed Ibis winter, wc wonder?), resident caretaker, and quite grand carpeted stairs. If yon prefer yon can pay £9O p.a. for an American flatlet with private bath and so on, or if yon are still more riotous with your money you can pay £3 p.w, for one unfurnished room with conveniences and telephone, Americans, with their largesse, are helping to complicate an already difficult position for the average Civil Servant. , A GENERAL MIX-UP. Beginning with the highest iif the-land, let us quote the Hon. Gerald Lascolies, son of ttie Princess Royal. Just 18 years old, ho lias for the moment chosen to go into a munitions factory as the “ most useful job 1 can do for the war effort.” His day begins at 7.45 a.iu. and frequently ends at 7 p.m. Not yet in uniform (tins wiil come in November when lie joins the Rifle Brigade), lie looks picturesque enough in a pair of overalls over a brown sports jacket and green corduroy trousers. Further down the social list come the 20,UtK) schoolboys and girls, university students, voluntary land clubs, and other organised groups, all eager to help gel in the harvest, abundant enough if only the weather would behave. Labour is stiff so short on the laud that, in spile of (he above large number, Bedfordshire women in shops, offices, as Well as housewives have promised to help after 6 p.m. and on lialfliolidays, not to leave out Sundays. For a few nights the moon was so bright that willing helpers turned out, but you can’t do much in heavy dew. • It is remarkable bow much land formerly “ wasting in despair,” lias taken- a new lease,of life. One of the best examples is in' Windsor Great Park, belonging (o' the King. It has been ploughed up, and now is said to be the biggest wheatfield in Great Britain. Finally, . factory workers are receiving some little kindly attentions. Their long hours, shifts day and night, make it imperative that (hey should he allowed to sleep when at last they do get homo. It is extraordinary how selfish people are in the matter of other folks’ comfort. The 8.8. C. now often asks that radios shall be turned low. One firm lias bad the wit to devise a placard, now hung in many shop windows, with (his in large letters, “ War workers asleep. Don’t disturb. Thank you.” So successful has it proved that the workers .themselves now hang it out on their doorways to remind day-time people (hat nighl-ones must rest.