U3A Writing: Retrospectively
Win Grant recalls impoverished times - days when happiness ruled.
I remember . . .
How we walked to school and played hopscotch and rounders – energetically.
And the school concert on St. Patrick’s Day was anticipated – eagerly. And performed by everyone – happily.
When the Trinity Sunday processions led to the Town Hall Square – eventually. And we sang ‘Faith of our Fathers’ – proudly.
There would be good, filling meals of broth and rabbit pie and bread pudding – nutritiously. All eaten with great relish – enjoyably.
How sweets were rationed and we ate raw carrots – resignedly.
And gazed into sweet shop windows – longingly.
There would be jalap sometimes and cod liver oil with malt at other times, nasty and nice – respectively.
How Grandma would side the table and wash the pots – cheerfully. And have someone ‘beautify’ the house – beautifully.
There were copper boilers and dolly-tubs for the weekly wash – steamily. And bedroom windows iced up in winter – frostily.
When steps were scrubbed and donkey-stoned – universally.
Saturday matinees and horrific serials, followed – excitedly.
And Wakes Week holidays and the scramble for trains – expectantly.
Clogs and hand-me-down clothes – of necessity.
And pegged rugs and blackout curtains made by Mum – naturally.
How trams rattled and trolley busses hummed – noisily.
And street hawkers sold ice cream and fish and “Black peas all hot” – unhygienically.
Proper seasons with tar bubbles in summer – stickily.
When we walked with Dad on Sundays – wearily.
And waist-high snow in winter was greeted – joyfully.
How Grandad smoked thick twist and Capstan Full Strength, in ignorance – blissfully.
How love, friendship and neighbourliness were given – generously.
And all are remembered here – affectionately.
