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 or the shop.
The kids were a lot more contented,
They didn’t need money for kicks,
Just a game with their mates on the road,
And sometimes the Saturday flicks.
I remember the shop on the corner,
Where a penny’s worth 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 bogey 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.
[received as mail]
(….old times are always great to recall. In most ways, those were actually great. Like when Baano Aapa writes in Haasil Ghaat, “Mujhay khushi hai kay mein ne aik aisay muhallay mein parwarish paayi, jahaan sub log aik doosray ko jaantay thay…”)