I remember VE Day. I remember my Mother turning away from the Wireless and saying. The Germans have surrendered, its over. Please God we will never have to fight the Germans again.
In our house there was no nonsense about glorious Victory. No triumphalism. It meant the horrors were over - no one seemed to have registered that the war in the Far East was still raging but for us it meant that there would be no more bombing, that my father would never again have to climb a ladder to put out the fires that consumed the docks in the Easrt End of London, Uncle Arthur would come home safely from the sea and Uncle Sid from the desert to see his wife and son for the first time for years, Uncle Will could go back to his nightwatchmans job in Liverpool without having to watch for firebombs. Poor uncle Stan would not be coming back. He went down with HMS Redmill off the coast of Ireland on 27th of April just over a month before the end of the war.
I don't think I shall be watching the television much today because I fear that people will forget that for many people like my grandparents it was a very bittersweet day. It must have had a profound effect on me because when Victor died from MSA I caught myself switching from hopng for a cure to thinking "yes but not just yet. I don't know how I would cope with losing him just before the end of the war" The cure will come one day and when we are all rejoicing we should spare a thought for those who nearly benefitted from it
The good news is that the fish in the pond are makng whoopee today - we thought the big bad heron had caught them over the winter before we netted it.. they are not great conversationalists and like to hide in pretty blue flower like a forget me not so we had not seen them this year at all