Plain talk

By Mursi Saad El-Din

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The New Year and Christmas, but especially Christmas, bring back memories of over 60 years ago. They are memories of the 12 years I lived in London, in what has come to be called post- war England. True memories don't make history, since history is left to the historian who researches documents and letters. Memories, however, are records of events which their writer actually lived.

A great deal has been written about post-war Britain, but I actually lived through it and was able to see Britain, especially London, rise like the Phoenix, from the ashes of the war, and revive.

I arrived in London, a young, newly wed man of 23 in 1945, to take my job as Secretary of the Egyptian Institute, a brainchild of Dr Taha Hussein who was at that time adviser to the minister of education. With my wife we boarded a troop ship which carried the first British residents in Egypt. The war in Europe had just ended and our ship was guarded all through its journey by the Royal Navy, for fear of any lingering enemy submarines.

They were 12 glorious years I spent in London, years that have become an integral part of my life. They were the years of living the victory of the war, of remembering the sacrifices and sufferings of the British people, who in spite of the savage German Blitz, carried on with their daily life. With the debris around them, they had hopes for a new Britain which ended up being realised, with the victory of the Labour Party and the creation of the welfare state.

Living in London after the war was difficult, but it must have been more difficult during the war. We lived through the rationing period when in a restaurant if you ordered bread you forfeited your sweets. I don't have to write about the quantities we were allowed in tea, sugar, jam, butter, eat etc., but we all accepted it as a price for victory.

Even furniture was rationed and newly weds were allowed enough coupons to buy the mere necessities. I remember reading that the same law applied to Princess Elizabeth when she was married. I don't know how true that was, but we all believed it.

I saw London going back to its cultural and artistic supremacy. It was in the domains of the theatre and music that this was apparent. Actors and actresses flocked in from America to appear on the the West End. We saw Death of a Salesman, A Streetcar Named Desire, Oklahoma, Annie Get Your Gun, The Millionairess and a myriad plays by leading American stars. We saw Swedish ballet, Indian dancing by Ram Gopal, Seton playing by Ravi Sankar. London was once again the mecca of art.

And London was singing. The wartime signature tune of Vera Lynn "We'll meet again" was still popular, bringing back memories, even to the non- English like me. Sir Harry Lauder's masterpiece "You'll take the high road, I'll take the low road and I'll be in Scotland before you" was echoing on the radio airs. Even the famous marching song of the invading German army "Lilly Marlene" was taken up by English artists in the form of "Underneath the lantern of the barrack gate, darling I remember the way we used to wait". Petula Clarke was singing "How much is that doggie in the window", and Noel Coward was chanting "And the Nightingale sang in Berkeley Square." Even American soldiers billetted in England had their song, "Its a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to go."

Yes, post-war London sang, and also laughed. The radio was full of skits on the war, with the famous "How much binding in the marsh". There were also educational programmes like "Music while you work", "A book at bedtime" and, over and above, children's programmes. The newly introduced TV had such successful programmes as "This is your life."

My 12 years in post-war London taught me many things. But above all else, they gave me the chance to see another side of history. Books about the WWII dealt with battles in the Western Desert, Italy and France, about Dunkirk and Stalingrad and about Germany's surrender. But I would like to read more about the heroism of ordinary citizens, the role of women and their contribution to the war efforts, giving away even their wedding rings.

And I shall always remember the 12 Christmases I spent in London, with their joviality, canavaderie and, above all, the family spirit that dominated. Even I, my wife and newborn son, felt part of that family.