Winter Memories: Part Two
When we were playing in the snow, Mum would sometimes lock the front door, so we couldn’t keep running in and out and leaving it open! We would then have to knock on the front door, to come in. The solid oak door, had an iron black door knocker, which when banged, had a hollow sound that you could hear echoing through the hall and beyond. This was then opened with a large iron key and we were allowed to enter; on the understanding, we would not go out again that day!
On cold days like this, we would come in with hungry appetites and gather around the open fire in the living room, where Mum and Dad would let us use a toasting fork to toast tea-cakes, pikelets or bread. They always tasted better, even if sometimes they were a little charred!
The flames had a fascination of their own; they flickered and danced as they licked around the logs and often used to spit or shift suddenly, sending sparks flying out at all angles. Once a cinder fell onto the hearth rug which Mum had made, and burnt a hole in it before Dad could put it out.
Winters meant we had some severe gales. Over the years different tiles came loose or were blown off and this led to the elements having access to the roof. After heavy rains, water would start to leak through and because we were too poor to have it mended and we definitely didn’t have any building insurance, the water seeped through into our living area. These leaks were mainly upstairs, but there was also a large hole in the Kitchen ceiling, which was rather scary to a young child, as you weren’t quite sure what might crawl out!
The four of us had tremendous fun running around the house with buckets, jugs, saucepans and any available large container to catch these drips. I can still hear the sound of the hollow first drips and then the splash of water hitting water. These splashes also went outside the containers, so we had to add newspaper around them, to be sure the carpets didn’t become sodden. It became important to keep an eye on the amount of water, so that the various vessels didn’t overflow! If an individual was the first to find a new drip somewhere, we felt very important and would shout at the top of our voices, “Bucket!” …intimating we had found a leak that needed one! To us it was a game, but I feel for my poor mother who had to deal with this on a regular basis!
I can imagine Quentin Blake would be able to do wonderful drawings of the 4 of us charging around and Mum at her wits end!