It’s nice to reminisce. Our memories are our link to the past. They are our childhood, our families, our ups and our downs. Our lived experiences have made us who we are today. Even our darkest moments are illuminated with the memories of the people who helped us through those tough times, who were there when we needed them. For many people my age our memories of the war are not of bombs and rationing but of the camaraderie, of singalongs in shelters and the feeling of belonging.

I feel blessed to live with people who grew up in the same era. We identify with each other; we have a shared experience that unites us. To many, rationing is a passage in a textbook, to us it was a way of life.

This week we had a visit from a lovely lady named Sarah. Sarah arrived with a suitcase full of memories. She spoke to us about the past, about a bygone era, an era when things were made to last and when people spent their money on items that they needed rather than wanted.

Sarah chatted to us about dairy farming, and how much it has changed over the last century, she had brought along an array of props which were passed around. We remembered them like it was yesterday.

Milking was back breaking work, there was no machinery, cows were milked by hand and the milk processed and canned by farmhands. During the war a lot of farm work was undertaken by women, they were strong women both mentally and physically. Real role models for young girls.

We had a wonderful afternoon, we have fond memories of the products brought along, I can still picture some of them in the pantry. Holding that tin of powdered milk in my hands again made me smile.

The team at Timken sat with us to listen to Sarah, they were really interested in what she had to say and after Sarah had patiently answered all our questions, the team stayed with us asking us about our experiences, we chatted the whole afternoon away; the time just flew by.

We are told that Sarah will be back again soon with her bag full of nostalgia. It’s wonderful to hear her talk but it’s equally nice to see the props, to be able to sit and hold a tin that transports me right back to my mother’s kitchen. I loved to watch her cook, I used to hand her that very tin. The days of helping mother are sadly long gone but thankfully there is a special place in my mind that I can visit, where they’ll live forever.