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Caran | 21:50 Fri 17th Jan 2014 | ChatterBank
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I REMEMBER THE CHEESE OF MY CHILDHOOD

And the bread that we cut with a knife,

When the children helped with the housework,

And the men went to work not the wife.

The cheese never needed a fridge,

And the bread was so crusty and hot,

The children were seldom unhappy

And the wife was content with her lot.

I remember the milk from the bottle,

With the yummy cream on the top,

Our dinner came hot from the oven,

And not from the fridge; in the shop.

The kids were a lot more contented,

They didn't need money for kicks,

Just a game with their mates in the road,

And sometimes the Saturday flicks.

I remember the shop on the corner,

Where a pen'orth of sweets was sold

Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic?

Or is it....I'm just getting old?

I remember the 'loo' was the lav,

And the bogy man came in the night,

It wasn't the least bit funny

Going "out back" with no light..

The interesting items we perused,

From the newspapers cut into squares,

And hung on a peg in the loo,

It took little to keep us amused.

The clothes were boiled in the copper,

With plenty of rich foamy suds

But the ironing seemed never ending

As Mum pressed everyone's 'duds'.

I remember the slap on my backside,

And the taste of soap if I swore

Anorexia and diets weren't heard of

And we hadn't much choice what we wore.

Do you think that bruised our ego?

Or our initiative was destroyed?

We ate what was put on the table

And I think life was better enjoyed.







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Lovely verse. I remember having my mouth washed out with soap. Yuk.
"..the wife was content with her lot."

Sorry, don't remember that bit!
I recall having my legs scrubbed with Ajax - I was a devil for popping hot tar bubbles.
Gawd, I remember my mom scrubbing road tar of my legs with Ajax or Vim as well, Mamya, bloody sore for days after.

I remember my nails being painted with Bitter Aloe, because I chewed them.
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I also remember the soap in the mouth. I also remember having my fingers deliberately burned on the grate because I wouldn't stop poking the fire. Didn't stop me though I was always fascinated with the bits of tarry bits bubbling in the coal, hard to resist giving them a poke.
And my aunt kept her handkerchief up the leg of her knickers.
And my lovely brothers feeding my bonny curls through the mangle....


ll_billym - Lots were happy and contented though times were often hard , my parents were, they both worked.


My school knickers had a pocket.
giveup, if your aunty's name was Mary should have been a canary not an hankie !.
A plait being ironed on the ironing table, to produce waves, for a special occasion.
Were they navy blue ferlew?
Yep. I got to "the wife was content with her lot" and went hell no....and do we also remember the flu epidemics that killed? damn right the cheese didn't need a fridge, the house was freezing apart from right in front of the fire....

sorry, what a load of botox.
Maroon, giveup. :)
Rags in your hair for curls.
Woofgang,I'm saving up for botox.
Yes, sis got the rag treatment for her auburn hair, I got bloody plaits :(
Oh dear - it's a copy and pasted email for goodness sake, not a comment on the social history of last century.
But it's "such fun" Mamyalynne.
I shall stick to popping tar bubbles and not bubbles of fun.

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