It is 9.20pm on Wednesday night. I am snuggled under the bettermaker quilt, feet up on the footstool Watching Hidden Histories on BBC4 and waiting for ten o' clock when Mr M will be coming home from work.
The programme is really interesting about the oldest family butcher's business in England and the man is finding out lots about his ancestors
And then it went dark and silent.
A power cut.
My mobile phone whistles to tell me I have received a text message and then it does it again. Two messages. I peer at the first one. From my son in law telling me that the power might go off because he reported to the Electricity people that there was steam and an acrid smell coming out of one of their manhole covers in our street.
OH, so it's his fault.
I look at the other message. It's from my daughter. She asks if my power has gone off and am I OK or should she send her husband.
I reassure them both and then send a text to Mr M telling him that I am in darkness, well I have three torches and several candles, but I am ALRIGHT.
I potter about lighting the candles and switching on the little string of LED lights that haven't been put away after Christmas. Mr M arrives just after ten and he can reach the camping bag in the pantry, the one that holds the kettle that will go on the gas stove. Now everything is right with the world. We can have a cuppa and we could make food if we wanted it. I decide that as eleven pm approaches that I am for my bed so I take my little torch and off I go.
It was not until I came to write about my moment that I realised that I wasn't in the least bit upset by being in the dark on my own and didn't even get the hint of a panic attack. Things are certainly looking up!
This is written as part of a lovely idea by Alexa at Trimming the Sails why not go over there and take a look at the other moments, now that you've read mine :)
Thursday, 16 January 2014
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Sunday reflections
I have decided that I miss the storytelling Sundays where I could mostly dredge up family tales and write them down for my children to read and learn about life before them. I was thinking about this last night and into my head popped the Christmas party we had at Llandowlais Farm.
It was the normal thing for family gatherings to be at our house because it was large enough to hold a lot of people. I have described before here how my dad and grandfather renovated the farmhouse and the party was the first Christmas where we could use the downstairs rooms. This means it was 1961. I was still in school - well I was still going and getting my mark in the register. I left at Easter 1962 so I can be sure that this party was Christmas 1961. By Christmas I mean Christmas Day. Our party was always Christmas Day. My Dad and Uncle Peter who lived with us, and Uncle Ron cos he had a car, would go out across the area and collect everyone who was coming to the party. My Dad had an old post office van with bench seats down the sides si he could get loads of people in. For some reason we decided to have a fancy dress party.
As the vehicles returned people trooped in through the kitchen door to be greeted by shrieks of laughter as they were recognised - or not - by other guests.
Some of the first to arrive were Pat and George Murray with their son Michael. This was one of the phases where I wasn't in love with Michael. There were times when I was but these never coincided with when he fancied me so we have had a friendship that has lasted 60 years - can't be bad.
Where was I? oh yes. Pat is a bathing belle, Michael is a lavatory attendant from paradise and George, well George was a tramp. He didn't come in with the rest of the group. He waited outside for someone to sit on the window seat in the kitchen. It was Aunty Kath. He tapped on the glass, she turned around and he pressed his face against the window.
I swear that her scream was heard five miles away in Newport.
My Dad decided that he could only come to the party as a pirate. Why? Well he lost his right leg at the end of WW2 when he was blown up by a mine. He had a tin leg. he had one with a foot on it for a day but it slowed him down so he took the foot off and for the rest of his life - he died age 89 - he sped about on his peg-leg, as he called it. So here he is with a curtain ring on a thread for an earring and a red scarf tied around his head.
Uncle Fred and Aunty Phyllis always joined in with the fun. We used to joke about Aunty Phyl because she always had an opinion and she always knew she was right. She would tell you something and then say "Isn't that right, Fred?" He would nod and continue his own conversation without missing a beat. The main thing about Aunty Phyl was that if you needed anything she would move heaven and earth to help you. She was wonderful.
Uncle Fred arrived as a Russian spy With Aunty Phyl as a Beatnik. Just behind them you can see Cousin Andy. I have no idea what he came as because he avoided the camera.
How did we know Uncle Fred was a Russian spy? Well he told us he still had the snow on his boots.
Aunty Mary told us previously that Uncle Hilmer would be coming as Fred Flintstone. We asked if she would be coming as Wilma and she looked horrified. Oh no, she was coming as a hippy which was much more dignified. My mother decided that she would come as Wilma and found some brown fabric in the sewing cupboard and made this enticing little number.
It really cracks me up when I look at this picture because Fred Flintstone is wearing his vest! He also has his two year old son, Paul, waiting to be picked up. Paul came as himself.
There was lots of music and dancing. There was usually a time when Aunty Muriel would sit at the piano and vamp her way through the favourite songs and there were always games.
The honeymoon game was the favourite. Only to be played by adults no married couples to be together and no cheating - as the rules were Dress in opposite sex clothes run to kitchen and back holding hands, don't forget suitcase. It was easy not to cheat.
It did mean that there had to be a time when music played but nobody moved because they were hurting too much from laughing. Then it was back to dancing and singing again.
Uncle Ron and Aunty Kath came as Indians - this was 1961 so forget the PC stuff. Kath made the costumes and did the war paint. I can also see Cousin Jacky in that picture. She said she came as a hippy but really she came as Cousin Jacky, she just added a long rope of pearls to her big jumper. The pale pink lipstick was the absolute height of fashion and that was something that Jacky knew all about. She had started work at C&A in the ladies fashion department so she was able to get her clothes at a discount.
I was the despair of her life because I wore jeans and T-shirts. I had horses so fashion was not something I cared about. My clothes had to fit and not wear out.
I love that in this picture Uncle Ron is holding the bread knife. They look so young.
Aunty Val was involved with the youth football teams where she lived. She trained one of the teams. For some reason her brothers and sisters thought this was hilarious and it was never spoken about without them laughing. Now I think about it they never spoke about each other without some teasing and laughing
Aunty Val is here with Uncle Peter. They were not a couple. Aunty Val was married to Uncle Tom. He was never one to put himself forward. Let's face it he would have needed to be really loud and boisterous to be noticed in this lot.
Uncle Peter was my mother's brother. He came to live with us after he came out of the army and he worked with my father as a partner in the business until my Dad retired and then Peter continued to run the business for another 20 years. Now it is still being run by Peter's Son Alan
It wasn't just family that came to our parties. Friends came too. Uncle Alfie Taylor, his wife Aunty Dulcie and their Children Graham Linda and Linden were always included in every family occasion. Uncle Alfie was a childhood friend of my father and they had been through a lot together. Uncle Alf died a long time ago and Aunty Dulcie passed in the last year. I have very fond memories of them and this picture brings back their sense of fun and the great sense of joy at being alive that always came along with them.
So there it is. A Christmas Party that was recorded in pictures more than 50 years ago in a house that no longer exists.
Thank goodness for memories.
It was the normal thing for family gatherings to be at our house because it was large enough to hold a lot of people. I have described before here how my dad and grandfather renovated the farmhouse and the party was the first Christmas where we could use the downstairs rooms. This means it was 1961. I was still in school - well I was still going and getting my mark in the register. I left at Easter 1962 so I can be sure that this party was Christmas 1961. By Christmas I mean Christmas Day. Our party was always Christmas Day. My Dad and Uncle Peter who lived with us, and Uncle Ron cos he had a car, would go out across the area and collect everyone who was coming to the party. My Dad had an old post office van with bench seats down the sides si he could get loads of people in. For some reason we decided to have a fancy dress party.
As the vehicles returned people trooped in through the kitchen door to be greeted by shrieks of laughter as they were recognised - or not - by other guests.
Some of the first to arrive were Pat and George Murray with their son Michael. This was one of the phases where I wasn't in love with Michael. There were times when I was but these never coincided with when he fancied me so we have had a friendship that has lasted 60 years - can't be bad.Where was I? oh yes. Pat is a bathing belle, Michael is a lavatory attendant from paradise and George, well George was a tramp. He didn't come in with the rest of the group. He waited outside for someone to sit on the window seat in the kitchen. It was Aunty Kath. He tapped on the glass, she turned around and he pressed his face against the window.
I swear that her scream was heard five miles away in Newport.
My Dad decided that he could only come to the party as a pirate. Why? Well he lost his right leg at the end of WW2 when he was blown up by a mine. He had a tin leg. he had one with a foot on it for a day but it slowed him down so he took the foot off and for the rest of his life - he died age 89 - he sped about on his peg-leg, as he called it. So here he is with a curtain ring on a thread for an earring and a red scarf tied around his head.
Uncle Fred and Aunty Phyllis always joined in with the fun. We used to joke about Aunty Phyl because she always had an opinion and she always knew she was right. She would tell you something and then say "Isn't that right, Fred?" He would nod and continue his own conversation without missing a beat. The main thing about Aunty Phyl was that if you needed anything she would move heaven and earth to help you. She was wonderful.Uncle Fred arrived as a Russian spy With Aunty Phyl as a Beatnik. Just behind them you can see Cousin Andy. I have no idea what he came as because he avoided the camera.
How did we know Uncle Fred was a Russian spy? Well he told us he still had the snow on his boots.
Aunty Mary told us previously that Uncle Hilmer would be coming as Fred Flintstone. We asked if she would be coming as Wilma and she looked horrified. Oh no, she was coming as a hippy which was much more dignified. My mother decided that she would come as Wilma and found some brown fabric in the sewing cupboard and made this enticing little number.It really cracks me up when I look at this picture because Fred Flintstone is wearing his vest! He also has his two year old son, Paul, waiting to be picked up. Paul came as himself.
There was lots of music and dancing. There was usually a time when Aunty Muriel would sit at the piano and vamp her way through the favourite songs and there were always games.
The honeymoon game was the favourite. Only to be played by adults no married couples to be together and no cheating - as the rules were Dress in opposite sex clothes run to kitchen and back holding hands, don't forget suitcase. It was easy not to cheat.It did mean that there had to be a time when music played but nobody moved because they were hurting too much from laughing. Then it was back to dancing and singing again.
Uncle Ron and Aunty Kath came as Indians - this was 1961 so forget the PC stuff. Kath made the costumes and did the war paint. I can also see Cousin Jacky in that picture. She said she came as a hippy but really she came as Cousin Jacky, she just added a long rope of pearls to her big jumper. The pale pink lipstick was the absolute height of fashion and that was something that Jacky knew all about. She had started work at C&A in the ladies fashion department so she was able to get her clothes at a discount.I was the despair of her life because I wore jeans and T-shirts. I had horses so fashion was not something I cared about. My clothes had to fit and not wear out.
I love that in this picture Uncle Ron is holding the bread knife. They look so young.
Aunty Val was involved with the youth football teams where she lived. She trained one of the teams. For some reason her brothers and sisters thought this was hilarious and it was never spoken about without them laughing. Now I think about it they never spoke about each other without some teasing and laughing
Aunty Val is here with Uncle Peter. They were not a couple. Aunty Val was married to Uncle Tom. He was never one to put himself forward. Let's face it he would have needed to be really loud and boisterous to be noticed in this lot.
Uncle Peter was my mother's brother. He came to live with us after he came out of the army and he worked with my father as a partner in the business until my Dad retired and then Peter continued to run the business for another 20 years. Now it is still being run by Peter's Son Alan
It wasn't just family that came to our parties. Friends came too. Uncle Alfie Taylor, his wife Aunty Dulcie and their Children Graham Linda and Linden were always included in every family occasion. Uncle Alfie was a childhood friend of my father and they had been through a lot together. Uncle Alf died a long time ago and Aunty Dulcie passed in the last year. I have very fond memories of them and this picture brings back their sense of fun and the great sense of joy at being alive that always came along with them.So there it is. A Christmas Party that was recorded in pictures more than 50 years ago in a house that no longer exists.
Thank goodness for memories.
Wednesday, 1 January 2014
Twas the Week before Christmas
Not a creature was stirring, well that was because I was sitting in the Doctor's surgery with a medical student doing my consultation and waiting for the Dr to come in and "oversee".
I had developed cellulitis in the eczema on my leg, again. As this had put me in hospital for five days in November I was keen to avoid a second go. I thought I would get me to the Dr straight away and be able to stay at home for Christmas.
It was close.
The Dr gave me two lots of antibiotics and pain killers so that on Christmas day when My leg suddenly swelled up again it was "just" a trip to the out of hours (OOH Doc) Doctor on Christmas Day. He gave me a third antibiotic and more painkillers and I was able to return to my settee of pain.
Mr M coped with looking after me and the chickens and he cooked meals and looked after visitors and hugged grandchildren and did all the things I usually do - and seemed to do them more easily too.
I am glad to report that the Dr thinks we have beaten it for now, although I have a backup course of antibiotics in the cupboard just in case. They are good until 2016 so I reckon they are the insurance policy like the two paracetamols in the pocket for a headache - I will explain if you don't understand that.
So Happy new year to everyone, so glad to be able to relax and enjoy the undiluted company of my husband for a few more days before he goes back to work. I might even go outside!! Or not.
I had developed cellulitis in the eczema on my leg, again. As this had put me in hospital for five days in November I was keen to avoid a second go. I thought I would get me to the Dr straight away and be able to stay at home for Christmas.
It was close.
The Dr gave me two lots of antibiotics and pain killers so that on Christmas day when My leg suddenly swelled up again it was "just" a trip to the out of hours (OOH Doc) Doctor on Christmas Day. He gave me a third antibiotic and more painkillers and I was able to return to my settee of pain.
Mr M coped with looking after me and the chickens and he cooked meals and looked after visitors and hugged grandchildren and did all the things I usually do - and seemed to do them more easily too.
I am glad to report that the Dr thinks we have beaten it for now, although I have a backup course of antibiotics in the cupboard just in case. They are good until 2016 so I reckon they are the insurance policy like the two paracetamols in the pocket for a headache - I will explain if you don't understand that.
So Happy new year to everyone, so glad to be able to relax and enjoy the undiluted company of my husband for a few more days before he goes back to work. I might even go outside!! Or not.
Sunday, 15 December 2013
Simply a Moment - December
7.45 Sunday. I reluctantly crawl out of bed, shivering, that's not good. I only shiver when I am ill. Joints aching, leg itching. Ah, looks like I am not as healthy as I hoped today. This feels like flu but without the woolly head and runny nose. I decide to wallow in my misery for a while, but first I have to let my chickens out.
On wobbly legs I make my way down the steps into the back garden. They are peering at me through the wire, silently wishing me to hurry up! I open the gate and they stroll out slowly, keeping one beady eye on me while they examine the floor to see if any tasty morsels have dropped out of the sky since yesterday. Goldie stands really close to my feet and waits for me to move. She is convinced that one day there will be a fat juicy worm under them and she is ready! Amber spreads her wings and flaps them, just like we do when we stretch in the morning. Koala whinges, she has the most moaning voice I have ever heard on a chicken and she keeps up a continuous burbling moan the whole time she is awake.
They make me smile as they begin their day of preening and snoozing interspersed with scratching the earth from what was my flower bed. I take myself back up into the house and prepare to spend my day under the bettermaker quilt.
On wobbly legs I make my way down the steps into the back garden. They are peering at me through the wire, silently wishing me to hurry up! I open the gate and they stroll out slowly, keeping one beady eye on me while they examine the floor to see if any tasty morsels have dropped out of the sky since yesterday. Goldie stands really close to my feet and waits for me to move. She is convinced that one day there will be a fat juicy worm under them and she is ready! Amber spreads her wings and flaps them, just like we do when we stretch in the morning. Koala whinges, she has the most moaning voice I have ever heard on a chicken and she keeps up a continuous burbling moan the whole time she is awake.
They make me smile as they begin their day of preening and snoozing interspersed with scratching the earth from what was my flower bed. I take myself back up into the house and prepare to spend my day under the bettermaker quilt.
Tuesday, 10 December 2013
Teeny tiny boxes for sweeties!
On Saturday, Annette and Andrea arranged that they would come in on Sunday and clean my house. I was becoming overwhelmed by the work that was needed and the stay in hospital had just made things worse. Andrea asked me if I knew how to make little boxes because Boo wanted to give home made fudge to some of her teachers and little boxes would be needed.
I turned to my blogging community, knowing that amongst all you crafty people there would be someone to help.
I was right. This is what I found Exactly, perfectly right! I printed out the whole thing and took it upstairs to my craft room and played with some scrap paper. I sent a quick picture to Andrea and it was decided that when Boo had finished helping to clean we would go into the craft room and she could decorate her little boxes
This is the result.
I just love them. I don't have an oval punch to make the handles like the destructions tell me so I used a scalloped circle punch that works just as well. Just big enough to hold four squares of home made fudge - wrapped in cellophane or cling film of course - and so easy to decorate with die cuts or flowers. The very best thing about these teeny tiny boxes? they take about five minutes to make as long as you have a scoring board, a sharp scissors and a glue stick.
One of the best things I have found just go take a look and then have a go
I turned to my blogging community, knowing that amongst all you crafty people there would be someone to help.
I was right. This is what I found Exactly, perfectly right! I printed out the whole thing and took it upstairs to my craft room and played with some scrap paper. I sent a quick picture to Andrea and it was decided that when Boo had finished helping to clean we would go into the craft room and she could decorate her little boxes
I just love them. I don't have an oval punch to make the handles like the destructions tell me so I used a scalloped circle punch that works just as well. Just big enough to hold four squares of home made fudge - wrapped in cellophane or cling film of course - and so easy to decorate with die cuts or flowers. The very best thing about these teeny tiny boxes? they take about five minutes to make as long as you have a scoring board, a sharp scissors and a glue stick.
One of the best things I have found just go take a look and then have a go
Thursday, 5 December 2013
Why the Mohican chased us - The Caravan Holiday part two
My cousin Eve is two years older than me and when we were teenagers she seemed to me to be very daring, quite the rebel.
On our Caravan holiday we were told that the site was five minutes from the sea. It took us at least 20 minutes of brisk walking so we think the person who told Aunty this big lie must have had a car.
I don't remember it raining at all on this holiday but I think it must have done because this was Porthcawl and it was Miners fortnight and it always rains then.
For those of you who don't live in the UK - Miners fortnight was so called because all the coal mines shut down for the last week in July and the first week in August and most of the families would have been saving for the previous 12 months so that they could go to the seaside. Sometimes whole streets would pack their bags and go to a caravan site for a week. So the valleys were empty and Porthcawl was full.
Where was I?
OH yes. Every day Aunty would send Uncle to the shop where he would buy two sliced loaves and half a pound of butter. He would then be told to "keep an eye on that lot" while Aunty and Aunty Mu and Aunty V spread the butter and then opened several jars of fish paste - these had been in the boxes of food that we had been packed around on the journey down. These sandwiches plus a packet of crisps each and several bottles of fruit squash would be distributed amongst half a dozen bags.
The Baby was strapped into the pushchair, everyone was warned not to forget their towels and the deck chairs and like a camel train we would set off for a day on the beach.
It was only the second day of the holiday when we saw him. Remember that this was 1960/1 and there weren't many people with a mohican hair cut in those days. Eve was never a quiet person and she seemed even louder that day "OOOOOH look at him! Look Mam, he's had his head shaved!"
The boy turned his head and stared at her. We all did that thing where you immediately look down at your feet and scurry really quickly. We had to shove Eve with the deck chairs and the bags because we didn't have a spare hand. The Baby leaned precariously out of the pushchair and said OOOOH very loudly and then laughed.
It must have been this that spurred Eve on because she turned and looked straight at this chap and shouted "hey up, where's Hawk-eye?". His head came up and he began to run at us. Aunty screamed "Bill! Bill! Tell him!" as she accelerated away with the baby bouncing in the push chair. Eve, May Charlie and I all shrieked and ran like the wind, passing the Aunties and poor Uncle Bill who was keeping between us and the very irate mohican.
We reached the beach in moments and felt much safer because there were several burly miners with their families already there. we found our spot on the sand - not easy with Aunty because she obviously had a special colour of sand in mind - and spread the blanket and put down the chairs and the bags. The mohican glowered at us and then stomped off across the beach. We all turned and looked at Eve.
"What?" she asked innocently "What did I do now?" we chased her down the beach and into the water.
We spent the rest of the holiday keeping a look out for the mohican and his pals and making sure we avoided them at all times.
On our Caravan holiday we were told that the site was five minutes from the sea. It took us at least 20 minutes of brisk walking so we think the person who told Aunty this big lie must have had a car.
I don't remember it raining at all on this holiday but I think it must have done because this was Porthcawl and it was Miners fortnight and it always rains then.
For those of you who don't live in the UK - Miners fortnight was so called because all the coal mines shut down for the last week in July and the first week in August and most of the families would have been saving for the previous 12 months so that they could go to the seaside. Sometimes whole streets would pack their bags and go to a caravan site for a week. So the valleys were empty and Porthcawl was full.
Where was I?
OH yes. Every day Aunty would send Uncle to the shop where he would buy two sliced loaves and half a pound of butter. He would then be told to "keep an eye on that lot" while Aunty and Aunty Mu and Aunty V spread the butter and then opened several jars of fish paste - these had been in the boxes of food that we had been packed around on the journey down. These sandwiches plus a packet of crisps each and several bottles of fruit squash would be distributed amongst half a dozen bags.
The Baby was strapped into the pushchair, everyone was warned not to forget their towels and the deck chairs and like a camel train we would set off for a day on the beach.
It was only the second day of the holiday when we saw him. Remember that this was 1960/1 and there weren't many people with a mohican hair cut in those days. Eve was never a quiet person and she seemed even louder that day "OOOOOH look at him! Look Mam, he's had his head shaved!"
The boy turned his head and stared at her. We all did that thing where you immediately look down at your feet and scurry really quickly. We had to shove Eve with the deck chairs and the bags because we didn't have a spare hand. The Baby leaned precariously out of the pushchair and said OOOOH very loudly and then laughed.
It must have been this that spurred Eve on because she turned and looked straight at this chap and shouted "hey up, where's Hawk-eye?". His head came up and he began to run at us. Aunty screamed "Bill! Bill! Tell him!" as she accelerated away with the baby bouncing in the push chair. Eve, May Charlie and I all shrieked and ran like the wind, passing the Aunties and poor Uncle Bill who was keeping between us and the very irate mohican.
We reached the beach in moments and felt much safer because there were several burly miners with their families already there. we found our spot on the sand - not easy with Aunty because she obviously had a special colour of sand in mind - and spread the blanket and put down the chairs and the bags. The mohican glowered at us and then stomped off across the beach. We all turned and looked at Eve.
"What?" she asked innocently "What did I do now?" we chased her down the beach and into the water.
We spent the rest of the holiday keeping a look out for the mohican and his pals and making sure we avoided them at all times.
Sunday, 1 December 2013
Story telling Sunday - The holiday in the caravans
This Story is brought to you through the invention of Sian at FromHighintheSky. It started three years ago as a lead up to Christmas and then became a monthly thing. I have tried to join in every time because I saw it as a way of recording those family stories that used to be handed down by telling and retelling at family gatherings. The last of my father's siblings passed away in the early part of the year so they won't be around to gather us in and tell the old stories. I am a part of the Older generation now so my stories have to be recorded and passed on.
I told you about the time I went on holiday with Aunty Mary and my cousins here and described the ritual we witnessed before we left. I didn't tell you about the actual holiday.
This was going to be a posh one. A two week holiday in two caravans in a caravan site two minutes from the beach at Nottage, a small village just outside Porthcawl. So there was Aunty Mary, Uncle Bill, Cousins Eve May and Charlie and of course the Baby. Also joining us would be Aunty V and cousin T and during the middle weekend Aunty Mu with Aunty K and Uncle R. A pretty normal gathering for a family holiday.
We were told that the caravans were fairly modern and we were lucky to get them so cheaply. Please bear in mind that this was 1960/61 so we didn't expect electric light or shower rooms in the caravans they just were too far out of our price range then.
We arrived at the site Me Eve May and Charlie in the back of the car, squashed into the blankets and sleeping bags and pillows with boxes of food on our laps. It was normally only a two hour journey, but everyone was heading that way because it was miners fortnight so it actually took about five hours to get through Cardiff and then into the traffic jam for Porthcawl.
We stopped at the shed by the gateway and collected the keys to the caravans and the man showed Uncle Bill which ones were ours. The definition of fairly modern had been stretched a bit. They were so obviously pre-war but it was still exciting to be on holiday. Aunty said we girls were to sleep in the smaller caravan with Aunty V, and Cousin T. She said Charlie and The Baby would be in the bigger caravan with Aunty Mu Aunty Mary and Uncle Bill.
We loved it! we discovered that the two minutes from the beach was actually a 25 minute walk as long as you swung your arms and really stepped out. Eve got badly sunburned on her chest - Oh OH I remember she always called them her Lotties! I have no idea why. Anyway because of the shape of her bathing suit she burnt the exposed tops of her "Lotties". We applies calomine lotion but by bedtime she was itching a lot.
She decided that if she slept in my sleeping bag we could zip her into it and she wouldn't be able to move her hands up to her chest to scratch.
Now this sleeping bag had an extra bag attached to the top where a pillow could be put and it wouldn't slide away from you during the night.
We zipped Eve into the bag and she tried and failed to get her hands to a scratching position. We were delighted. Then, just after Aunty V had turned out the gas lights and we were settling down there was a noise outside the caravan. I sat up and peered our under the curtains, Eve was sharing the double bed with me and she too raised herself, with difficulty, not having hands to lean on.
"OH!" I said," look at that behind you"
Eve screamed, threw herself backwards and kicked with all her might. Her feet went through the wall of the caravan with a mighty crack. This made her scream again and bounce frantically up and down on her back. Aunty V is shouting "What's wrong? What's wrong?" Cousin T who was only little was crying, Cousin May who had been asleep was calling for her mother and me, well I am gasping with laughter and trying to stop Eve from killing herself as she tries to get out of the sleeping bag to run from whatever is behind her.
Uncle Bill arrives at the door and gradually every caravan in the site has the door open to see what is happening.
It turns out that while I was pointing to the pillow that had come up behind Eve's head and being amused, she thought I said "Oh look a bat behind you" and thought it was a vampire.
We did eventually get to sleep and Uncle Bill used that sticky paper parcel tape that you had to wet with a sponge to fix the wall in the caravan.
Next time I'll tell you about the last of the Mohicans and how we did the route from the beach to the caravan in minutes because he chased us. I might even tell you what happened when Uncle R asked us if we could run.
I told you about the time I went on holiday with Aunty Mary and my cousins here and described the ritual we witnessed before we left. I didn't tell you about the actual holiday.
 |
| Me that summer, sulking because I wanted to be somewhere else |
We were told that the caravans were fairly modern and we were lucky to get them so cheaply. Please bear in mind that this was 1960/61 so we didn't expect electric light or shower rooms in the caravans they just were too far out of our price range then.
We arrived at the site Me Eve May and Charlie in the back of the car, squashed into the blankets and sleeping bags and pillows with boxes of food on our laps. It was normally only a two hour journey, but everyone was heading that way because it was miners fortnight so it actually took about five hours to get through Cardiff and then into the traffic jam for Porthcawl.
We stopped at the shed by the gateway and collected the keys to the caravans and the man showed Uncle Bill which ones were ours. The definition of fairly modern had been stretched a bit. They were so obviously pre-war but it was still exciting to be on holiday. Aunty said we girls were to sleep in the smaller caravan with Aunty V, and Cousin T. She said Charlie and The Baby would be in the bigger caravan with Aunty Mu Aunty Mary and Uncle Bill.
We loved it! we discovered that the two minutes from the beach was actually a 25 minute walk as long as you swung your arms and really stepped out. Eve got badly sunburned on her chest - Oh OH I remember she always called them her Lotties! I have no idea why. Anyway because of the shape of her bathing suit she burnt the exposed tops of her "Lotties". We applies calomine lotion but by bedtime she was itching a lot.
She decided that if she slept in my sleeping bag we could zip her into it and she wouldn't be able to move her hands up to her chest to scratch.
Now this sleeping bag had an extra bag attached to the top where a pillow could be put and it wouldn't slide away from you during the night.
We zipped Eve into the bag and she tried and failed to get her hands to a scratching position. We were delighted. Then, just after Aunty V had turned out the gas lights and we were settling down there was a noise outside the caravan. I sat up and peered our under the curtains, Eve was sharing the double bed with me and she too raised herself, with difficulty, not having hands to lean on.
"OH!" I said," look at that behind you"
Eve screamed, threw herself backwards and kicked with all her might. Her feet went through the wall of the caravan with a mighty crack. This made her scream again and bounce frantically up and down on her back. Aunty V is shouting "What's wrong? What's wrong?" Cousin T who was only little was crying, Cousin May who had been asleep was calling for her mother and me, well I am gasping with laughter and trying to stop Eve from killing herself as she tries to get out of the sleeping bag to run from whatever is behind her.
Uncle Bill arrives at the door and gradually every caravan in the site has the door open to see what is happening.
It turns out that while I was pointing to the pillow that had come up behind Eve's head and being amused, she thought I said "Oh look a bat behind you" and thought it was a vampire.
We did eventually get to sleep and Uncle Bill used that sticky paper parcel tape that you had to wet with a sponge to fix the wall in the caravan.
Next time I'll tell you about the last of the Mohicans and how we did the route from the beach to the caravan in minutes because he chased us. I might even tell you what happened when Uncle R asked us if we could run.
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