CAN your grandchildren sew on a button or do a simple piece of knitting? Probably not, writes Mrs Dorothy Thornley, of Little Lever.

She goes on: "Mam taught my sister and I to sew, knit, crochet and bake. I don't know how she found the time, because as well as working on the evening shift at the mill, there were no labour-saving devices in those days such as a washer/dryer, vacuum cleaner, fridge/freezer or microwave oven, etc. to help with the daily struggle to keep us all clean, warm and fed.

"Food was rationed, and goods taken for granted these days, such as bananas, biscuits, butter, chocolate, were unavailable. We had free school dinners, which helped.

"Dad was called up half-way through the war, but army pay wasn't much, and there were no benefits in those days. Most mothers were forced to work, and, as the song goes, keep the home fires burning.

"The downside of all this was the responsibility of the eldest child to take care of the younger ones. I was one such child. The two boys had to be undressed, washed and asleep before Mam came home, and it wasn't always easy to do. What follows wouldn't be allowed nowadays, yet I am still here to tell the tale.

"The night-light flickered, throwing shadows across the bedroom walls. I watched it anxiously - it had burned down very low, and there wasn't another one. My younger sister slept peacefully in the bed besides me, with brother Harry in a small bed in the corner, and Johnny, aged three, in a cot between our bed and the wardrobe.

"It was almost midnight, and Mam hadn't come home yet. Dad was a vague figure who appeared from time to time on leave, bringing his chocolate ration for us all.

"Mam was a barmaid at weekends; it wasn't ideal, but money was short during the war. I was 13, and had to look after the other children while Mam worked.

"I hated Saturday nights, because it was the busiest of the week in the pub, and Mam was always late home.

"It was very quiet in the avenue, and no-one had a car then. 'Please come, please come', I prayed. I crept out of bed and lifted up a corner of the curtain. I could just see a part of the pavement from the window.

"Where was she? What would I do if she didn't come home? My imagination ran riot, my ears strained for the sound of her footsteps. I couldn't sleep. The little clock ticked on relentlessly, the night-light burned lower.

"Then I heard the tat-tap of heels coming down the avenue. Let it be her! It was! The gate clicked. I gave a sigh of relief, and got back into the warm bed. She was home. We were safe . . . until next weekend."