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| During the war, in London, I lived on raw chestnuts, or anything else available in the fields and hedgerows, because we were half-starved most of the time.
You had to stand in a long queue with your ration-book, which was stamped each time you were allocated the basic essentials. Milk, eggs and orange-juice were powdered, and pretty horrible. Meat and cheese hardly existed.
Road-kill was manna from heaven, especially rabbits, but pigeon wasn't bad
I remember my brother and I spending hours sitting underneath a sweet-chestnut tree munching. We thought we were in paradise.
Now I can't bear to look at the things, especially raw! | |
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Oh thank you Ceppy, I love stories of the past.
Reminds lovingly of me of my parent's stories (same generation as you).
When my mom was a very young child growing up in a rather precarious Italy of 1943 - 45, they too were lacking everything.
They used to leave the windows open, but the shutters slightly closed and they would leave tibits on the window sill to attract the pigeons. Once the pigeons were on the sill, they'd close the shutters and then chase 'em all over the flat.
Roasted pigeon, I've been told, is delightful.. even more so, when you're hungry.
. And by the way, I am not a spring chicken myself.
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