My Mum Revisited!
Mum was special but as I have said before she was not really made from appropriate Mum material. She did her best but child rearing was not really within her realm of capabilities although we never doubted she loved us. For example, as protector, she was like a lioness guarding her young…none more so than when my quiet, music loving, brother was being set on by the street bully. As the boy laid into my brother, suddenly there was a roar “Aye, aye, aye, boy Jones!” Boy Jones looked up in startled terror as he saw Mum hurtling furiously towards him. He took to his heels as if the very devil himself was behind him, Mum’s fearsome reputation lending wings to his flight. I fear Mum would not have survived this era of political correctness without landing herself in very deep mire because if she had caught him, boy Jones would have got his ear well and truly clipped.
I only ever saw my Mum cry once and that was because, poor as we were, we had been burgled and the thief had emptied the gas meter and taken Mum’s emergency money (thirty bob = £1.50). Her sobs came in great, heaving, gut-wrenching gasps and the sight of it terrified me as I had never seen her beaten before. I had always thought of my Mum as invincible.
However, Mum’s idea of mothering whilst being utterly commendable, was, nevertheless, totally off the wall as she was under the impression that she was a cordon bleu cook in the true Lyons Corner House tradition, (she had been a nippy in her younger days) often telling us that an army could march on her pastry – we not daring to tell her that indeed they could if they soled their boots with it. And her sausage stew, as she euphemistically liked to call it, was to die for. Well, we came pretty close more than once or twice. The ‘stew’ consisted of sausages cooking in tomato soup which as the sausages shed parts of their skin and got broken up they took on the appearance of what I now might describe as vasectomy trimmings gently simmering in some kind of weak blood coloured sauce. It is probably superfluous to mention that we were not considered big children for our respective ages!
Mum was also under the misapprehension that she was a seamstress of the very highest order. If only that were true then perhaps I might have been spared the embarrassment of appearing in public in a donkey brown home made coat complete with Florence Nightingale bonnet that tied under the chin with what can only be described as something akin to parachute webbing as the straps were at least 8 inches wide and reached full down to my feet. The resulting bow carried the potential to take out the eye of any casual passer-by on the opposite side of the road.
A further indignity heaped upon me was, I remember, in school, as a teenager, when we got undressed for P.E. my classmates stripped off to reveal lovely feminine pink or white nylon petticoats purchased probably from the Coop. To this day, however, when Dolly Parton sings about her Coat of Many Colours I break out in a cold sweat as I remember, without the same affection, my petticoat of many colours knitted with all the odd bits of wool that Mum could lay hands to and which consisted of such a wonderful kaleidoscope of colour combinations as Mustard, Mauve, Green, Khaki and Orange which might still have held out the possibility of proving acceptable had they not all made their debut in the one garment! All of which helped to convince me that I was suffering from some contagious affliction, which, in the interests of humanity, would necessitate me writing a letter, on behalf of my Mother, to my teacher, to the effect that I must reluctantly be excused from doing P.E.
The school had by now got used to my letters, supposedly written by my Mum as every September I had to write explaining that once again I was suffering from a rare form of blood poisoning and that medical opinion favoured a recovery period of exactly six weeks. Blood poisoning was the euphemism for Hop Picking or as Chas and Dave like to sing ‘Opping down in Kent!’ which, by happy coincidence, lasted exactly six weeks
If I delve even further back I have other memories that never fail to induce a sense of incredulity that we survived beyond our childhood yet we did and we are the stronger for it! However, I am not sure anyone reading this will survive such an ordeal so I bid farewell to any person who takes the trouble to read this. I think manageable chunks might be the order of the day here!
Comments
jolono | January 5, 2012 - 09:14
Denzella, once again really enjoyed it. I think our mums were very similar. When I was a teenager I wanted a pair of corduroy trousers, of course we couldn't afford them. Mum said she would make me a pair, she did! Only wore them once, couldn't stand the laughter from my mates.
I can see this being a series, "Adventures with Mum"
I'm in.....
oldpesky | January 5, 2012 - 09:21
Good morning, Denzella. Jolono has beaten me a to it with his call for a series. There's a good mix of nostalgia, which we all like when we can relate to it, and humour to keep us smiling. Very well done.
Edenfalls | January 5, 2012 - 09:26
Hi Denzella, read the first one about Mum and really enjoyed it. But this is even better. More please.
Denzella | January 5, 2012 - 11:32
Hello Jolono,
Thanks for reading and commenting on my piece. Do you think your Mum and mine could have been in cahoots? Their mission in life to cause us as much embarrassment as possible? As for a series, I know I've got at least one other 'fond' memory tucked away.
When I've replied to the other comments then I'm straight on your site because I spied another Julian story...
Denzella | January 5, 2012 - 11:36
Hello oldpesky,
Thank you also for reading and commenting on my piece. Yes, I think you're right we all like a good slice of nostalgia and I think laughter is absolutely the best medicine.
I am so pleased you enjoyed it.
Denzella | January 5, 2012 - 11:42
Hello Edenfalls,
To you also my thanks for reading and commenting on my piece. I am so pleased that you enjoyed my first effort. However, I am absolutely delighted that you think this piece is even better and how nice of you to say so.
Yes, I hope to do one or two more.
lavadis | January 5, 2012 - 11:46
Yes very enjoyable - don't think I will ever have the will to write about my mother save for the oblique
Silver Spun Sand | January 5, 2012 - 12:35
My mother was hopeless at cooking too, which probably stemmed from the fact that the four of us, my mum, dad, sister and me, had to share a tiny terraced house with my nan and my aunt (my mum's sister). We didn't have a kitchen, that was my nan's domain, and she did all the cooking, so Mum never learned. We got rehoused by the council when I was eleven, and even after that, with a kitchen of her own, she still didn't improve as a chef.
I much enjoyed your story, and yes, you should do a series of them;-)
Tina
Cavalcaderl | January 5, 2012 - 21:33
new Denzella
Enjoyed your story, very much!
I laughed your description of the stew!
Sausages looked like! Makes one think?
You may like to read my story, I tried called
"Some Of Mangled Mess Of Life's Experiences".
This brings memories of my mum too!
She wasn't good at adding up. Mum to six
of us,poverty no hot water at first,or electric,
old tin baths, in a scullery, gradually Boiler got.
Realtion put electric switch on wrong way, so dark
sometimes from toilet! outside if off indoors.
We had clothes too ankles, girl's runny noses!
Honestly, illness, underweight,those times.
My belated pop,clever navy man,typed,mended boy's shoes.
Cut their hair by puddiing basin used put round head.
Could cook up quickly, superb Welsh Rarebit, add his
own sauce etc; sign writer! If boy's went into navy too,two out four,bring mates home on leave etc; pop pianists,accordionists,violinists,none of us accomplished his talents. Mum could make gorgeous big
dumpling stew all bubbling large in a pot! and also
suet puddings with big pin it.
School had a wear a pixie hat fur mum made,keep my ears warm,and health laughed at my chidlren.
Now there all the fashion.
Two or three children in bed,brother's sister whatever up to certain age! only.
Garden used for hand done allottment. We all kind of helped. Then sweetpeas trellis. Things rows carrots cabbages,peas.
Cat's dogs,fish,rabbits we had. Then Mynah bird talked to much? Budgie. So on. That's enough from me.
Yes, go on carry on with more superb mum stories
Coal fire,coke. Open grate! blacked regularly,any soot catch alight! Memories. Gas mantle one touch finger went trhough it changing it. Bedrooms stone cold. Fruit luxury,cake only week-end. Chicken for christmas. All was done shops, Xmas eve. So on!
Bad and good times.
Don't want bore you.
cavalcaderl julie x
Denzella | January 5, 2012 - 22:41
Hello Cavalcader,
Julie,
Thank you for reading and commenting on my piece. I am so pleased that you enjoyed it. It seems there are a few of us on this site that had quite, shall we say, unusual childhoods. Your Mum sounds as if she had it hard like my Mum but having a somewhat difficult childhood I think makes us stronger adults.
I will most certainly read the story you suggested to me although as my eyes are getting heavy now I will probably read it when I can't sleep in the night. It is usually in the wee small hours that I do most of my reading and writing.
Thank you once again for taking the time and trouble to read and comment on my little story.
Nighty night
Moya
Denzella | January 5, 2012 - 22:47
Hello Tina,
Thank you for taking the time and trouble to read my little story and for commenting on it. I'm very pleased that you enjoyed it.
I'm sorry I did not post a reply sooner but I didn't realize I hadn't. I don't know how I missed that but apologise for not doing it sooner.
I haven't looked to see if you have a poem or story up today but no doubt I will be up during the night and will take a peak then. No, I think I'll do it now.
Nighty Night
gerardineanne | January 7, 2012 - 23:18
Don't need manageable chunks,give me more!
Denzella | January 8, 2012 - 00:54
Hello Gerardineanne,
Maureen,
Thank you so much for saying that. I know from what you have said in reply to another post that yours is an honest response and it is very much appreciated.
Thank you
Moya