Remember, remember the third of September

Remember, remember the third of September
Umbrella, swastika and sickle
For that bit of daring
Old Hitler is swearing
He's got himself into a pickle.

This is what my mother wrote during the second world war. The third of September 1939 is the day that war was declared.

• The umbrella represents Chamberlain,who always had smartly rolled up umbrella
  
• The swastika represents the Nazis, and
• The sickle represents Russia.

Both my mother's big brothers, Jack and Bill, had to join the services and go to war, which saddened and worried their mother. In the first world war, her little brother, my mother's Uncle Willie on his last leave was admiring baby Jack in his pram. My grandmother, less patriotic perhaps than her brother, who'd come from Canada to join up, asked:

"If you were killed, would you think it were worth it?"

Uncle Willie looked at the baby and replied:

"If it means this little lad won't have to go to war, it'll be worth it."

Uncle Willie was killed in WW1, and Uncle Jack had to join up in WW2 - so Uncle Willie's sacrifice wasn't worth it.

Uncle Bill's drawing

Recently looking through my family history files I came across this cartoon that U. Bill did of me in June 1963. I'm wearing my school velour hat, which was a very expensive piece of uniform. The occasion that elicited this cartoon was that I'd got into this school. The eleven plus system at the time would pay a grant to the direct grant schools for all the children that the authority deemed had passed the eleven plus. I'd taken the 11+ but the county education authority did not deem me suitable for grammar school. However, such schools would still take suitable children, if the school liked them and the parents were willing to pay, something like £20 a term. The school liked me; I got in. To celebrate my success, U. Bill, who the family considered had the fewest brains, drew me this picture and wrote me this ode:

I knew you'd pass this Exam without any fuss or flurry.
I told you in the Café that you had no need to worry.
It was plain to me the Convent would accept you back but still
How could they have refused you when you've brains like Uncle Bill!

Rude mother and Uncle Bill

Son on phone to me today accused me of being rude. "Nanna and Gran'pa and Granny are the politest people. Why are you rude?" I don't think I was being very rude, but it did set me wondering where I'd got my rudeness from - I can't have inherited from such polite parents. But I did have a rude uncle.

Uncle Bill was deliciously rude. For example, when I was around seven years old, I remember him eating spaghetti - this was something that my Nanna, with whom he lived, would cook for him in a Bolognaise sauce. He would take some very long strands of sauce covered spaghetti, and slurp and suck them into his mouth, and they whirled round and round in the air before disappearing down, and his mouth would blow out into a big 'O' and his eyes would open wide as if surprised and Nanna would say, "Bill, behave yourself in front of the child!" Perhaps it's from him I've got my rudeness.

He never married - perhaps he didn't find the right person - perhaps it was the war. His wartime memories are up on the BBC history web site. See for example, Training completed - a letter home and Overboard

Does anyone else remember stories of Uncle Bill? Can you add them as a comment here? And I should find a photo of him too.