Malcolm Wheatman, of Kendal, recalls life in the town during World War Two

IN wartime Kendal, with open fires and coal restrictions, my father would get a ton of hardwood off-cuts delivered by tractor and trailer as winter approached.

They were from the now long-gone furniture factory near Endmoor, and dumped inside our open double front gate into a four-feet high pile, which spread into the Helme Drive roadway.

Arriving home from school, I was easily persuaded that it would be fun helping transport it on a wheelbarrow to the lean-to-wood store behind the tool shed.

Some of the enjoyment was finding oddly-shaped pieces, and trying to guess from which piece of furniture they had come.

Many were machined to a finish ready for a final staining. Other discarded pieces with knots or blemishes rendered them suitable only for firewood.

We had to get the whole lot cleared before sunset as wartime street lighting was very dim.

We often obtained quantities of useful materials from those wishing to dispose of them, but on one occasion there was a terrible smell in the house and my mother said she did not know where it was coming from or the cause. As the stench was almost unbearable she spent some time looking for it without success.

My father happened to mention that a poultry farmer friend had let him have a small sack of hen manure.

It was now in the coal store, effectively under the house staircase, but accessed only from outside.

A few days later he dug it into the allotment soil, from which a few months later would come the usual abundant crops of vegetables.