NOT SO GOOD TIMES
I had a good deal of responsibility for looking after G. and helping with the shopping. Errands could turn out to be a bit daunting at times. Mum would send me to the butchers for the weekend joint or to the greengrocers for vegetables: if the produce was not of the best quality she would moan that Mr. Whieldon had given me a duff piece of meat and “Why did you let Mr. Beeston fob you off with those sad looking Brussels sprouts?” Christmas Dinner had to be perfect.
We had never had a Christmas tree until – I must have been about ten – having bought the vegetables and having about 2s 6d left I noticed a very small table sized tree for sale. Should I, shouldn't I? - yes I bought it and suffered the consequences: ”You know I can't afford to waste money like that”, and worse. I didn't think about how it would be decorated: no money for a fairy or baubles. We probably draped it with more paper chains.
One Christmas morning, having woken very early and having emptied my stocking and seen what it contained, I thought it would be helpful, as Graham was still asleep, if I were to empty and unwrap the contents of his stocking. It would be a lovely surprise. Not so – Big Trouble!
Then there was the time Mum was ill: she sent me to the chemists to get a prescription made up, which meant passing Mr & Mrs Lancaster’s house. On my return Mrs L was at her garden gate waiting to chat to anyone passing by - Oh how she could chat! Mum had taught us to be polite and not interrupt but Mrs L was unstoppable, I was on edge because Mum was waiting for the prescription, but I didn't know how to get away without seeming rude; eventually Mrs L dried up, giving me the chance to leg it home to a very irate mother. After this incident I always took another route when going to the village on errands.
Another time when Mum wasn't well I tried to be helpful by cooking a meal. I have no memory of what the meal contained except that cabbage was an ingredient. Having chopped the cabbage, as I had seen Mum do, I put it into a pan and put it on the lit gas stove. After a little while there was the most noxious smell of burning greens plus ruined aluminium pan – I hadn't put any water in the pan. At that age my culinary skills were extremely limited. The outcome, after I had been berated for being so stupid, was that Mum asked a neighbour to come and cook for us; but her cooking was worse than mine – her meal was inedible.