Open Writing

The drinking age was eighteen and both older boys would be out with their friends on Saturday nights. A new fashion for shoes for men was in now, some young ones took to this including Rod. They were called 'winkle pickers', very pointed toes. I'm sure they crippled him, what lengths they would go to, to be in fashion. Rod had to carry his Birth Certificate with him in the Pub. He never looked the age to be able to drink.

He was still the funny boy and would have us all laughing with his antics. He ate more than anyone. Where he put the food, I never knew, it didn't alter his shape but he had bought weight lifting equipment and would practice his skills and became quite strong. He only brought one girl home. I think he was as embarrassed as she was, a pretty little blond thing. I only saw her the once, so I don't know how long it lasted. He seemed more comfortable with his mates at this age. I suppose he was trying to compete with his brother whose weekly conquests would drift in and out of our lives, though Alan was always generous with me. Each time he got more money, he offered me more, never having to be asked.

One Christmas all three clubbed together giving me seven pounds which was quite a lot, saying I must spend it on myself. Like every mother, I had the habit of finding things more in need than myself. I bought two pretty winter dresses. I was lucky to have a bit of a figure after six children. I didn't have chance to keep still long enough to get fat, having to set so much time for each job that needed doing throughout the week.

The stairs steps were painted white with a red carpet. Tiny feet always marked the woodwork, so each time I cleaned the bathroom, I wiped the stairs also to keep them clean, It would have been easier if my girls had been the oldest, instead of the boys. I may have got more help that way.
We had a very pretty sink in the kitchen backed with a large mirror with white cupboards above and below and a draining board each side. I often sat the two little girls, one either side with their feet in the water, to sponge them down if they didn't need a bath. When I bathed them, they sat in together also. I had worked out a system to stop them crying as they didn't like shampoo to go into their eyes, if we didn't sing, i seemed to be able to sing little rhymes instantly. Some were so funny, they would listen intentively and forget their hair was being rinsed, until it was all over. I never could remember the rhymes but each bathtime others were invented.