Warming memories

i remember sharing a bed wif my sister till she left home to get married. she used to call me a ble/edin little hooligan and make me sleep against the wall and not touch her. i used to wait until she was asleep and tie her hair in knots.she was a hairdresser………..i also used to lie n pick me nose and wipe it in her hair. :D she got her own back by practising her skills on me…….i used to go to bed some nights lookin like a japanese sniper me hair was dragged so tight up onto the top of me head.
i remember me mum takin us for a sasparilla if we had bin good in town.and one day bein so flustered cos me n me bro ad bin fightin all the way home…askin the shopkeeper to give us 2 charlie bugger sticks ……………she meant barley sugar sticks.
i remember spanish tobbaco…………..and getting boxes of choclates at xmas in the shapeof cigararettes matches….n pipes!!!!can ye imgine that nowadays lol :shock: :D ….an did anyone else offer to tek the neighbours toddler fa walks in their pushchairs for a small fee?……………me n me mates spent hours pushin prams around wif howlin babies in fa the price of a quarter of sherbet lemons and a bottle of fizzy orange lol.

For my Dad’s fiftieth birthday my parents invited our relatives to Sunday High Tea. Mom prepared a variety of sandwiches, which she de-crusted and cut into triangles.
She used thin sliced white bread and spread Co-op butter from a shaped patted block. The fillings (pre fridge days) were from tins: – Red Salmon with a dash of vinegar, salt ‘n’ pepper and the bones crushed in. Ye Old Oak Tinned ham, a small tin of Tongue and Pilchards that were mashed in their tomato juice.
As this if this wasn’t enough there was a capon that was boiled and boiled until it gave up.
She prepared some cucumber in a shallow dish smothered in vinegar, a few tomatoes from Dad’s green house, some wilted lettuce, several hard boiled eggs sliced using the egg slicer thing that every one had; some sticks of celery sticks with the strings still attached and a few spring onions. There were side dishes of Gran’s home made pickled onions and red cabbage and a jar of that stuff that looked like cat sick (Piccalilli)
There was a block of cheddar, which had the rind cut off which was given to the dog and some Dairylea triangles for me. Heinz Salad cream was a luxury in those days and strictly reserved for grown-ups. After the savory selection came the sweet selection, which I couldn’t have unless I’d eaten what I’d been given before hand. You could have buttered Fruitcake, Home made scones or Malt loaf. There was tinned fruit salad or sliced peaches, both were served with Plumrose tinned cream. Sometimes, there was an individual jelly or even a Blancmange for me if we had enough milk.
On this special occasion Mom made a Trifle; Mom’s trifle was wonderful and would keep me quiet afterwards in a stupefied state especially after seconds or thirds. The trifle was made on Saturday afternoon while dad watched grandstand. I helped Mom to build it in a large glass bowl, which I had briefly kept my goldfish ‘Terry’ in after winning him at the fair. The bottom of the bowl was lined with stale Swiss roll spread with Hartley’s Strawberry jam and soaked in draught sherry from the off license, over that was poured custard with sliced bananas. I was allowed to lick out the custard dish while the double cream layer was applied. To finish it off I grated some chocolate from a solid bar my brother had brought home from the Navy many years previously. A masterpiece. My sister still tries to make a trifle like Mom’s for me, but fails miserably every time J. My brother and I still eat it out of courtesy and leave the dish clean so that we don’t upset her.

Mom would open the china cabinet and place her favourite Cups and Saucers in readiness. The cups were so light they could have made of plastic, the porcelain so fine you could see through it. Mom always kept the one with the crack for herself and would cup it in her hand instead of through the dainty little finger hole for some reason. The wedding anniversary canteen of cutlery in the front room would have the budgie’s cage removed and with a deft flourish Dad would whisk away the embroided tablecloth. He would get the key, which was hidden from little prying hands from the Toby Jug, which was on the top of the bureau. It was difficult for him to reach and I wondered why he didn’t climb on the back of the settee like I did during the summer holiday to practice my knife throwing skills with the big bone handled carving knife.
On this occasion we had a crab and mussels. I watched Dad wrestle with the crab in the kitchen sink wrenching and twisting its pincers off before cracking its carapace with the coal lump hammer. Dad won this battle although I’m not sure whether the result would have been the same if Mom hadn’t boiled it for an hour before hand. The claw meat was mixed with the brown body meat and was almost as good as the Shrimpton’s Crab paste we had for a normal Sunday Tea. I took one of the pincers to school the following day, the girls were well impressed, well I think they were, they certainly made enough noise when I chased them with it around the playground. The mussels were prepared on Saturday night in readiness for Sunday; a large cauldron was filled with water and a handful of porridge oats added.
I never witnessed the mussels’ demise; as a sensitive lad I was inclined to cry at the drop of a hat and was sent out of the kitchen until they had stopped squealing, well I think it was the mussels but in retrospect it could have easily been my sister keeping me out of the way.
I liked our teas together on Sunday nights when the TV used to go off between 6 and 7. I’m not sure now whether the TV actually went off or whether Dad just turned it off for the duration of the God hour.