I was born in Harehills, Leeds in the mid part of the last century, my parents and grandparents and indeed the majority of my family having survived two world wars and a savage economic slump or two, or three, with more to come. I recall my father remarking late in his life that there was a time when he could not imagine ever having enough to eat. Rationing of goods was still in force well into the 1950's and for the rest of their lives the elder members of my family lived with the knowledge that hardship could and probably would return. However things were looking up and the brave new democratic world that so many had fought and been killed for was within reach.

The NHS was established in 1948 eight years before I took advantage of it, to assist my mother at my birth. The country was being rebuilt, jobs were available and for me a basic education and the gaping gates of Montague Burton's factory were waiting, conveniently at the end of the street. Not that I am disparaging Burton's in any way. They were forward looking employers providing secure jobs for the women and men of Harehills and Seacroft and the factory offered health, recreational, hairdressing and sporting facilities for all its employees. A respected and forward looking business. Many homes though were missing basic amenities. Heating and hot water would be provided via a single coal fire, many houses were missing inside toilets, my grandparents shared an outside lavatory with their next door neighbour, and in many others, multiple households would be availing themselves of the lavatory yard, three houses down, which housed the communal dustbins as well as the toilets. Baths were located in sculleries or cellars. Most people travelled on buses which were frequent and reliable or else they walked. My questioning of male family members, why bus drivers were men and conductresses were women (not exclusively) were met by pat responses such as 'don't know', ‘they aren't strong enough'. The implication being women were inept, very few women were seen driving at all. How soon were the amazing war efforts of their wives' and mothers' disregarded.

Unfortunately this attitude also spilled over into schools. Until the early 1960's school leaving age was 15 and the education was elementary and in my opinion the teachers themselves poorly educated. A child who voiced aspiration would be routinely told their work was 'not good enough' meaning we should know our place. The irony being that the teaching and prescribed education was inadequate and lacking in expectation, ambition, and support. Children were treated as objects, crammed in to poorly maintained Victorian buildings often forty to forty five per classroom. In my own school in winter the heating failed regularly and the assembly hall ceiling was in acute danger of collapse. So despite the suffering and sacrifice of our parents and their parents, has nothing changed? This is 2023, this is the brave new world they fought for, no soup kitchens now, but lots and lots of food banks.

This is not the piece I had intended write this is the piece I needed to write. And tomorrow? I grieve for tomorrow.