Bonzer Words!: Those Remembered Hills
Ann Bristow recalls a childhood holiday in the Malven Hills.
One year my sister Barbara and I were sent on a holiday to a beautiful place called Malvern Hills.
At the time, wealthy people were offering holidays for underprivileged children. The wealthy people were paid for their offerings, as it was a part of a charitable organization, so off we went.
On arrival two elderly women dressed in black greeted us. We thought this was odd and laughed it off however, being vulnerable children, what was to happen next we hadn't a clue. By the look of the morbid women the rest of our holiday was predictable.
After a small car journey from the station we arrived at an old dark house. As we entered through the big black front door the entrance into the hall was dark and creepy and the floorboards were worn and squeaky. In the corner of the sitting room I did notice an old gramophone, this was the only luxury the house seemed to own.
I was immediately despondent. I simply didn't like the atmosphere due to the eeriness. Generally speaking, I knew we weren't going to have a good time at all. The trouble was, we had to stay a certain length of time, which was a lifetime.
During mealtime the meals were hardly substantial—which for me was a surprise as I was a very small eater, then again my sister loved her food and ate as much as a man so she was absolutely starving. Barbara was crying all the time and wanted to go home. Therefore, my school friend Hazel kept us both company. For me the stay with Hazel was better as she had brought with her two top ten records (Frankie Lane's Jezebel and Johnny Ray's Cry). We sneakily used the gramophone that I had seen in the corner of the sitting room. It had a large horn shape on it—like the logo for HMV records. Of course we only played it full blast while the two elderly women were out shopping; if we were caught I would not like to think what trouble we would have been in as we were intentionally told we were not allowed to touch it.
Hazel and I would coax Barbara into watching the back door for when the women would come back. We couldn't think of a signal! Then I had an idea: as the internal doors were painted green she could sing Frankie Vaughn's latest, Green Door. So when they were approaching she'd sing loudly, 'Behind the Green Door'. Our record would be blaring away, and of course Hazel and I would be dancing to our favorite artist in another world, swooning over the good-looking singer. Then when Hazel and I heard the singing behind the green door, we knew the women were on their way down the street, nearing home.
We would come back to reality, turn the gramophone off, put everything back in its place and sit there like little angels waiting for the women to check in on our room.
We would later go for a walk and laugh and giggle our heads off, reminiscing with great relief that we hadn't been caught.
These were happy times: the simple, happy 'kids' stuff' which all generations of children enjoy. These similar things are all innocent and all a part of the journey in growing up. It is great fun, as long as it's not hurting anyone, or is not malicious.
Finally our holiday came to an end. The three of us made the dull holiday a little better by a little change. Having Hazel there taught me that with a little thought you could make a bad situation better.
© Ann Bristow
Ann writes for Bonzer! mgazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
