'Can any mother help me? I live a very lonely life as I have no near neighbours. I cannot afford to buy a wireless. I adore reading, but with no library am very limited with books. I dislike needlework, though I have a lot to do! I get so down and depressed after the children are in bed and I am alone in the house. I sew, read and write stories galore, but in spite of good resolutions, and the engaging company of cat and dog, I do brood and "dig the dead". I have had a rotten time, and been cruelly hurt, both physically and mentally, but I know it is bad to brood and breed hard thoughts and resentments. Can any reader suggest an occupation that will intrigue me and exclude "thinking" and cost nothing!'
The letter, published in Nursery World's 'Over the Teacups' column, elicited a chain of responses from sympathetic mothers from various walks of life, many of whom had similar frustrations. These women were educated and ambitious, but many of their careers had been cut short by marriage.
They wrote under pseudonyms and were full of ideas and opinions but had nowhere to express them. So they decided to start a private correspondence 'magazine'.
The Cooperative Correspondence Club - or CCC, as it quickly became known - was a place for these women to describe the subjects close to their hearts - the pain and elation of childbirth, the difficulties during wartime, the struggles and comedies of daily routine, even divorce. The CCC was one of many correspondence clubs that started through the pages of Nursery World.
At least three of these groups still actively wrote 'round robin' letters when the magazine celebrated its 75th anniversary in 2000. The CCC lasted for an incredible 55 years, brought to an end only by the age and ill health of the contributors.
I came across the old CCC magazines in the Mass Observation Archive at the University of Sussex. The material had been donated in 1998 by one of the group's members. I began reading, and before too long I found myself growing more and more fascinated by this extraordinary group of women, whose hearts and lives were laid out in colourfully written accounts. I set about tracking down the families of the CCC women and discovered that some of the magazine's founder members were still alive. Through interviews with these women and families I was able to gather enough information for a book to take shape.
I hope my book, Can Any Mother Help Me?, in some way fulfils the dream of Ad Astra, the correspondence magazine's life-long editor, who wrote in 1978: 'I have thought for the past few years that CCC ought not to perish as one by one we drop from the tree of life like ripe fruit in the autumn.
In a daydream I see a book explaining our origin, describing each member with indications of her life and interests, and recording CCC's life history.'
Straight from the heart
I can't quite make out why I have not had one awful pang that I have another boy! I heard them say, 'Oh she will be disappointed, she has two sons,' but I piped up, 'Well I am not one bit, I knew it was a boy all the time'! And is he lovely? Well, I nearly cry every time I look at him, he is such a dear darling...
Roberta, July 1943
Lucky, lucky daddy who dresses placidly and half-asleep, unconscious of the turmoil around him and unmolested by the throng!
Accidia, December 1951
Desiring still to achieve that final daughter I thought the omens propitious this September. Statistically, there is stronger hope of bearing a female child after the age of 35 so at 36 1/2 chances should be good.
Accidia, September 11, 1954
On the whole I enormously enjoy my children. But there are times, as the four weeks immediately after Christmas this year, when a black accidie descends; I wake to a feeling of 'What the hell?' seeing the years'
relentless passage, so little time, so little accomplished, and my life endlessly spent in tidying the muddles of others, cleaning a horrid little house, trying to fit a gallon-sized family into a pint-pot establishment.'
Accidia, February 1, 1955
Sickened, I asked Palmer, praying he would not confirm my thoughts, but yes, the German pilot of that bomber lay, in pieces, beneath his stained covering.
Palmer held out his hand, the pilot's iron cross. So he'd done something to 'earn' that, now he was dead. No longer a body, or a man, but pieces. I stared and stared as though to see beneath the stained silk. There lies, I thought, a man, who this morning had his breakfast, who slept last night, who spoke perhaps a few hours ago, now he is no more - he'll never speak again, or look, or eat, or - well anything - he's dead. He was someone's child, someone's brother perhaps, sweetheart, husband. This is war, I said, this is war.
Roberta, September 17, 1940
I have always felt that until more and more women take part in organisations and local government and so on, we shall not get on, or see the reforms we all desire. I was asked to be on the Food Committee and of course consented. But isn't it funny how I can't get away from food!
Rosa, 1940
We started married life in 1942 with a piano and a frying pan, a moderate wardrobe each, and far too many books (or so our various landladies thought), and slowly and painfully we have acquired furnishing , adequate if not aesthetic, and five offspring. John and I are both extremely short of clothes and could disburse 50 each straight off on a very modish refurbishing of our wardrobes. The house lacks all kinds of civilising touches and could swallow 500 without a belch. In fact, it will probably be years before the improved standard of living makes itself felt, especially now that the children are coming to the expensive stage. At the moment I make all their clothes, but can hardly be expected to tackle boys'
suits or school uniforms. Also, I feel we could be a little more ambitious in the educational field than we have hitherto allowed ourselves to be.
Accidia, Novermber 4, 1952
You may remember that, in 1945, when we returned here and started our family life again, I wanted a fourth baby. But after we had discussed it very fully, Alistair told me to put the idea right out of my head, as it would upset all the educational plans he had for the other boys, and also cause overcrowding in this house, which he already considered too small. I succeeded in persuading myself that he was probably right.
Isis, 1952
The Queen looked more lovely than one could have believed possible. Her youth and prettiness were transfigured into exquisite beauty by the glow of dedication and happiness which radiated from her. That heavy crown, the purple, and the gold, all the pomp and splendour - the beauty of her spirit triumphed over them and made them subordinate to that spirit and the vows she had made. Never, never shall I forget the sight.
Amelia, June 7, 1953
The law is FAR better too for a woman in this country (Switzerland). Not only do I get good alimony, but a lump cash sum down on divorce (this is to protect the wife in later life should the husband die), also three insurances, so as far as money is concerned one can't complain. The English law is far easier on the man, what security does a woman have? Just her alimony and that is all.
Roberta, November 2, 1953
Believe it or not, to the best of belief and knowledge I have never even beheld a 'wife's best friend' or whatever you call it, still less learned how to manipulate one. I think this was first because he thought I would be inefficient and later because he found I was recklessly philo-progenitive and quite capable of filling his house with noisy pledges of my affection while blandly protesting every time that I didn't know the gun was loaded.
Angharad, 1955
My nephew Peter wanted to take a photo of the children and me. When he said, 'Smile please,' I took out my dentures just for fun. Maria started and stared and spent much of the day trying to get her teeth out. She said, 'Can you do that because you don't clean them?'
Cotton Goods, 1979
