I was flicking through one of my forgotten childhood books - Hans Christian Anderson Fairytales and from between the pages fell badly cut out scraps of paper. These scraps were...
I was flicking through one of my forgotten childhood books - Hans Christian Anderson Fairytales and from between the pages fell badly cut out scraps of paper. These scraps were characters I must have cut out as a child from the Tiny Tots comic. Thinking back I am amazed that I was allowed a comic and remember sitting by the window on frosty November late Friday afternoons, clutching the cold comic that had arrived with the evening paper.
All the characters must have had some appeal; one or two were frightening such as the jack-in-the-box grabbing the children. I always wanted to be the little girl with blond hair in a red dress, black bolero and shiny shoes. The main figure is myself in school uniform clutching a hen, the victim symbol for my mother. The girl holding onto a First World War shell is myself waving to my mother who was in hospital behind barred windows. The shell is the symbol of two wars, which had caused so much disruption and continued to affect families from one generation to the next.
In the fifties, children were given cod liver oil, rosehip syrup, malt extract, haliborange tablets or a juice that came in a clear bottle with a blue top and every day at school, each child was given a quarter pint of milk for morning break. This was to supplement the diet during and after rationing. The cat was called Kipper but mysteriously disappeared, causing much heartbreak. I learned much later that he was taken to the countryside after he had stolen and eaten the yellow fish intended for supper. The yellow rabbit jug was my favourite item in our family home. It had been left to my sister but she eventually gave it to me as a present. I could not trace any Tiny Tots comics but managed to get an annual from 1954 which being typical of its time, is full of attitudes and things that are extremely offensive today.
The fifties were a difficult period after the Second World War with rationing right up until July 1954 and the only sweets I remember were sugar mice. Home life was not always easy, as many fathers were suffering from post-traumatic stress, so it was therefore important to escape into fantasy worlds.
This work is therefore like most things I do, created as a memorial in remembrance of the past, generated by these forgotten scraps.