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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.

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