As the years of my `childhood` {and I use that term loosely} rolled by, the weekends would arrived with pretty much the same routine.
I was left alone in the house from quite a young age as I was `sensible` and knew not to open the door to anyone or burn the house down. I was actually safer there alone than when she was there with me to be honest, I would breathe a sigh of relief and wander about the house from room to room feeling the tension slip away.
From about 10 or 11 onward, if my Father didn`t have to work Saturday morning they would go out shopping and I would stay home with my list of chores.
This usually included some washing up, running the hoover over, tidying the kitchen and wiping over the linoleum floor. Where the work top ran along to a corner with no cupboard beneath it, the cooker angled next to it, was an open space with about a foot wide gap to access it. There was kept a plastic stand with the veg in, it was my job to hoover it out with the pipe and wipe the floor over with Zoflora as far in as I could reach.
Who could of imagined Zoflora would still be so popular all these years later!
Who could of imagined Zoflora would still be so popular all these years later!
It smelled musty and of veg that was past its best which mingled with the disinfectant to make an unpleasant mix and yet I always lingered there, I would wonder if I could fit in the tiny space, if I curled up, I tried once but there was no chance. I had a fascination with small hiding places and even now when I`m somewhere new I often notice a little nook and think its a good place to crawl in and curl up.
There were usually a few things to iron and sometimes I would hand wash a few of my own clothes. What a help I was to poor frail Mother with her asthma and her nerves ! If I got busy then I`d have time to lounge about and read a book in a nice relaxed atmosphere before they got back, with only the dog padding about for company.
I`d help put the shopping away when they returned and would usually be in good favour if the chores had been done to her satisfaction. After lunch she would be tired from her shopping trip so it would be afternoon nap time and I would need to creep about or head off to my bedroom.
In later years the shopping trip would be late afternoon, Father would work in the morning and after nap time for both of them it would then be a mad dash off to Dudley just making it there for an hour or so before closing time, everything was done at the last minute in our house, why he never posted his Christmas cards until Christmas Eve...what was the point in that !!
I had a little pocket money enough to buy 3 chocolate bars.
Treats were not bought as part of the shop, the only sweets were a selection in my Mother`s handbag and if I was in her bad books she would happily chobble away while I went without or I would get handed a few that had been rolling around at the bottom of the bag and were tacky and had a faint taste of perfume. She found it great fun to give someone something that wasn`t fit for she herself to eat, when caught in the act she would snigger and my Father would get mad at her. In my 30`s I remember her handing me a packet of cheesy type snacks, they tasted awful and when I looked they were over a year out of date, when I showed her she giggled like a child and was full of glee at the mischief and relished my reaction.
So I made my 3 bars last, one for Saturday & Sunday evening and the last for Monday after school. I loved Monday`s ! After that there was nothing til the next weekend unless I walked to the local shop for her and got something with the change which wasn`t often as she had a lot on `tick` as it was called and what she owed went in the book.
I did get bought a magazine though when they got their`s which I loved.
I read and re read them and dreamed my life would be like the girls on the pages.
And I covered my walls with the posters too which cheered things up a bit.
Sunday`s were often the days they rowed, I don`t know why that was it just worked out that way. My father was up in the morning and so we had a little time together while he prepared the meat for the oven and did the veg, we had the radio on, chatted about topics in the news and sometimes did the crossword together. I think as I grew older I helped fill the mental void being married to my Mother left, she had little understanding or interest with current affairs, she was more a movie star and soap opera addict.
She surfaced midday and pulled the meal together that he had prepped, she managed the stuffing and gravy but he was called to baste the meat and drain the veg as she was far too weak to lift the saucepans.
Meanwhile I was in the living room dusting her endless nic-nacs, hoovering in there and up and down the stairs until I was told to lay the table. He carved the meat and she plated up. Everything was over cooked, the meat often dry and veg mushy. She then would do the oddest thing, even though her input had been about 30% she would bang the plate in front of my Father and in a loud voice say something like " E ar, bet nobody else up this road as got a dinner like that ay ?" He would obediently nod his agreement and she would beam a self congratulatory smile. Now I recognise it to be her Narcissism on full show, of course no one else would of been capable to produce a roast like that, shes better than anybody else as always. Truth was it was probably the worst dinner in our road and she`d had the most help. Dinner was usually followed by a blazing row and a nap. If I was lucky and he was still in the dog house, he would wash up to redeem himself, if not then that was usually my job.
~
There were usually a few things to iron and sometimes I would hand wash a few of my own clothes. What a help I was to poor frail Mother with her asthma and her nerves ! If I got busy then I`d have time to lounge about and read a book in a nice relaxed atmosphere before they got back, with only the dog padding about for company.
I`d help put the shopping away when they returned and would usually be in good favour if the chores had been done to her satisfaction. After lunch she would be tired from her shopping trip so it would be afternoon nap time and I would need to creep about or head off to my bedroom.
In later years the shopping trip would be late afternoon, Father would work in the morning and after nap time for both of them it would then be a mad dash off to Dudley just making it there for an hour or so before closing time, everything was done at the last minute in our house, why he never posted his Christmas cards until Christmas Eve...what was the point in that !!
I had a little pocket money enough to buy 3 chocolate bars.
Treats were not bought as part of the shop, the only sweets were a selection in my Mother`s handbag and if I was in her bad books she would happily chobble away while I went without or I would get handed a few that had been rolling around at the bottom of the bag and were tacky and had a faint taste of perfume. She found it great fun to give someone something that wasn`t fit for she herself to eat, when caught in the act she would snigger and my Father would get mad at her. In my 30`s I remember her handing me a packet of cheesy type snacks, they tasted awful and when I looked they were over a year out of date, when I showed her she giggled like a child and was full of glee at the mischief and relished my reaction.
So I made my 3 bars last, one for Saturday & Sunday evening and the last for Monday after school. I loved Monday`s ! After that there was nothing til the next weekend unless I walked to the local shop for her and got something with the change which wasn`t often as she had a lot on `tick` as it was called and what she owed went in the book.
I did get bought a magazine though when they got their`s which I loved.
I read and re read them and dreamed my life would be like the girls on the pages.
And I covered my walls with the posters too which cheered things up a bit.
Sunday`s were often the days they rowed, I don`t know why that was it just worked out that way. My father was up in the morning and so we had a little time together while he prepared the meat for the oven and did the veg, we had the radio on, chatted about topics in the news and sometimes did the crossword together. I think as I grew older I helped fill the mental void being married to my Mother left, she had little understanding or interest with current affairs, she was more a movie star and soap opera addict.
She surfaced midday and pulled the meal together that he had prepped, she managed the stuffing and gravy but he was called to baste the meat and drain the veg as she was far too weak to lift the saucepans.
Meanwhile I was in the living room dusting her endless nic-nacs, hoovering in there and up and down the stairs until I was told to lay the table. He carved the meat and she plated up. Everything was over cooked, the meat often dry and veg mushy. She then would do the oddest thing, even though her input had been about 30% she would bang the plate in front of my Father and in a loud voice say something like " E ar, bet nobody else up this road as got a dinner like that ay ?" He would obediently nod his agreement and she would beam a self congratulatory smile. Now I recognise it to be her Narcissism on full show, of course no one else would of been capable to produce a roast like that, shes better than anybody else as always. Truth was it was probably the worst dinner in our road and she`d had the most help. Dinner was usually followed by a blazing row and a nap. If I was lucky and he was still in the dog house, he would wash up to redeem himself, if not then that was usually my job.
~
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