Imagine Britain in the first week of May 1945. Six long, weary years of war had carved lines onto faces and landscapes alike. The air still hung thick with the dust of the Blitz and the scent of austerity. Ration books were a constant companion, dictating the purchase of everything from the morning bacon slice to a new pair of socks. Nights were shrouded in the mandatory blackout, familiar streets transformed into disorienting mazes of shadow, a necessary precaution against the bombers that had claimed over 60,000 civilian lives and shattered countless homes. Anxiety for loved ones serving on distant fronts was a gnawing, ever-present ache. The nation, utterly mobilised for total war, was exhausted.
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