Open Writing

No doubt about it there is a balmy suspicion of spring in the air.

Our bright little chorus of crocuses are victoriously pointing through the
weeds at the sun again, the call of a stray gas-man rends the March air as he drills away on a nearby pavement; delicate entrails of dust are haunting our bedroom ceilings.

Although these floating threads drive my fastidious partner spring feverish, I find they have a pleasant soporific effect on me. Watching them waft about soon has me dozing off.

While others greet this season with disinfectant, I am busy preparing my old deck chair and brochures for some serious outdoor study. Our holiday is booked, now all we have to do is save up the small fortune it will take to finance it. By the time the week arrives I should know every face in the brochure, I study them all closely for any visible signs of discontent.

Of course I do a certain amount of extra cleaning. Instead of running the vac over the hearthrug I shake it, and on Monday mornings I can often be seen searching the shrubbery with a pile of wet sheets hanging round my neck. Most of my clothes pegs disappeared with the Swallows, running my fingers through the weeds is always a prelude to the ‘hanging out’ season.

As I hold the ladder for my duster-happy handyman I often ponder on my unorthodox cleaning characteristics; perhaps a wash-leather earlier on in life frightened me.

It’s hard to imagine life without my double layer of winter wool as it is to visualise my midriff without its excess layers of Yorkshire pudding and winter diet. Have you ever taken a really truthful stare at your reflection? I mean without pulling yourself together first. I have – not a pretty sight! It’s always a shock to see my other half anyway as my kitchen mirror only shows my head and shoulders. The other day I caught an unrehearsed glimpse of myself in full sag and realised that the best way towards home improvement was mine.

I decided to try a sage hair rinse. The resulting concoction smelled similar to chicken gravy, but I swear my hair is more manageable. Not that anyone has noticed, although the dog does lift his nose and sniff appreciatively every time I pass his basket. I am strongly addicted to anything herbal and firmly believe that nature has a cure for anything – providing you can find it.

This is not just folklore, there is a lot of truth behind the old wives’ tales. Foxglove tea was an old remedy for people with heart problems. It has been discovered since, that this hat-shaped flower contains digitalis, a substance used in the control of heart disease today. Dock leaves that soothed away our nettle stings contains a valuable anti-irritant – antihistamine.

With the addition of garlic, onions have a marked effect on the lowering of blood cholesterol – which is considered to be one of the causes of hardening of the arteries. Researchers in ‘The Lancet’ admitted this a year ago. So these country remedies are not to be scoffed at, so pass the blackberry wine please!

We all have our own ways of paralysing the wrinkles. Paul Newman plunges his head in a bucket of cold water every morning. With the aid of a snorkel he stays there for twenty minutes. Not to be recommended for people like me who can barely stand a gentle dab with aired water before breakfast. Before Elinor Glin sank on to the tiger skin she scrubbed her arms and face with a dry nailbrush and always slept with her head facing North – probably it helped to cool her blood! Audrey Hepburn washes her elfin looks in Givenchy soap and water five times a day, and believes in lots of sleep, I could afford the latter.

If one cannot slim – buy a supportable swimsuit, I say. There is certainly a wide choice all with hidden assets, stout cups, firm-hold for lumpy hips, but I haven’t found my type yet. I am looking for a sort of Victorian variety with bloomer legs to cover my ex-chorus girl thighs, which are rapidly going to seed. And if only I could find a bathing cap that didn’t make me look like Kojak! The blossom-covered creations are pretty but I look more like a wedding guest than a bathing belle does. It’s strange but although I normally shun handbags, whenever I walk to a pool, I long for one to hold – preferably an outsize one!

Now that lighter evenings are here and we start weaning the children away from television it’s the usual protest ‘What can we play at?’ All the playing out games of our youth seem to be gone forever.

Long before the washing up rattle started we were heading for the ‘lamp’ in winter or the woods in summer. Anyone who hasn’t played ‘tin can squat’ around the lamp post has missed a vital part of education in my opinion. Then there was ‘hide and seek,’ ‘I draw a snake’ and whip and top delights, ball games against the wash kitchen wall, ‘When I was one I ate a plum,’ if anyone saw you drop the ball, you were out.

If the company was mixed we acted out the latest Tarzan film – the lads going hunting for crab-apples and rhubarb or other delicacies left unattended, while we ‘native’ girls waited in the cave with wick-infested blossom stuck in our hair.

Sometimes we played ‘truth or dare’ – most entertaining of all. Even if you chose ‘truth’ with a little ingenuity it became a ‘dare.’ ‘Is it true that if I tell you and Tarzan to (something suitably disgusting) you will?’ I blush to say we usually did!

In retrospect, of course, childhood summers stretched from March to September, a blissfully endless season of discovery. Even cracking bubbly gum had its exciting moments. A friend and I used to stand hours laughing at our reflection in a neighbour’s low window. Practising our largest bubbles, and designing the funniest set of pink false teeth.

We were so carried away by our amusing display we didn’t notice the threatening fist inside the window until it was too late. When the owner came galloping out with a long brush however we soon got the message. You couldn’t see our black pumps for dust and before long we were rolling about laughing in the long grass nearly swallowing our bubbly gum in delirium. The five o’clock mill buzzer announced dad’s imminent hometime and we walked jubilantly home, our gum stuck on our noses. But after my mother and our irate neighbour-in-waiting had finished with me I confess I felt like sticking it somewhere else!