The Sick Book

I’ve been absent for some time. E and D are now fully qualified toddlers, each with a new sister, and we’ve all had many adventures together.

It’s a wet Bank Holiday today and as a treat I decided to update the sick book. I started it more than 30 years ago, before any of my own children were born. I collected together lots of puzzles, games, activities and stories – all cut out from various magazines or comics. They were all pasted into one of those lovely large scrap books with a proper wire spine holding the pages together. On the front I stuck a montage of interesting little pictures, which for many years gave it its special appeal.

When my children were ill, I’d give them the sick book so they could do the puzzles and read the stories. They could do the activities as well if they were up to it, but if not, at least they could get some inspiration. Over time, the little puzzles were filled in and various other bits coloured, but the book endured.

Today I started its makeover. I’ve re-covered the front with new pictures, but with great regret, didn’t photograph the original cover before I tore off the old and peeling pictures. I’ve removed or covered over all the ‘completed’ with coloured card things so that fresh puzzles can be put in. I’ve also added lots of new material that I’ve been collecting over the last couple of years. There’s still room for more, but there’s plenty of time before any of the next generation are going to need it.

The sick book is now a mixture of the past (including items such as silver milk tops and old pennies) and the present (a lot glossier).

And as a bonus, absolutely no technology is required to access it!

 

Life’s a Beach

Treasures on the beach

The other day I wandered on to a beautiful sandy beach on the French coastline.  As far as the eye could see there were bodies exposed to the sun – sitting, lying, wandering around.  I think I may have been the only person to be fully clothed.  I was certainly the only person sorting through the heaps of seaweed to see if there suitable bits to take home ‘to do things with’.

We always had our noses on the ground

I like to go to the beach, but not to sunbathe.  I like to see what has washed up on the tide, collect shells or look at rock pools.  In fact, one of my earliest memories was finding a white feather on a beach.  I remember bending down and picking it up.  ‘That’s not much of a memory’, you might say, but as I was just over 2½ at the time, I think that’s quite good going.

When my children were young we made a point of going to interesting sorts of beaches and they learnt to wade through mud, created sand sculptures, climbed rocks, collected crabs and beachcombed.  We even had a beachcombing log, where we recorded our finds (we went beachcombing quite often!).  On the list were fishing tackle, pegs, hats, messages in bottles and on one occasion we found a piece of McVities cake still wrapped in its packaging, which we took home and ate.  Delicious!

Grandma’s House

The other day I walked past a shop and a familiar smell wafted out – the smell was of my grandma’s sideboard.  A single smell can release a whole lot of memories and for a moment I was back in her front room, opening the sideboard door and remembering many other things about her home.

Grandma and Grandad had brought up five daughters in their little three bedroomed house.  There was a long dark passageway from the front door to the living room, separated by a heavy curtain.  A huge table filled the middle of the room and this was covered by a green baize tablecloth, until meal times when it was covered by a white cotton one.e sideboard was large and I spent many hours rummaging through one of the drawers, which was filled with all sorts of interesting things.  My favourite toy was a plastic garden set.  This was a board with holes in and you had to poke in little flowers, trees and pots with a small tool to make a garden.  I managed to find a little picture…

Britains Floral Garden Set

I remember the gas lamps and how they spluttered when they were lit, the two bedrooms with a shared door and the two large beds for my mum and three of her sisters, no bathroom, but a giant sink in the kitchen and the tin bath hanging outside on the wall, the long garden with the chickens at the bottom and the front parlour.  This room was hardly ever used, but I would spend hours there playing through a large number of singles on a record player until I reached my favourite – The Ugly Bug Ball sung by Burl Ives.

Last but not least was the toilet.  This was outside and tucked round the back of the kitchen.  I remember once locking myself in there and having to be rescued.  It was also where I hid when Great Grandma visited.   I lived in terror of her hairy face.

My own mother playing, during the 1930s, in the space between the back door and the toilet. It looked exactly like that when I was a little girl.

Sweet Seaweed

We walked down to the shore.  I collected seaweed on a stick for the compost (it was the only way to carry it).  We came across (horse) Bob’s field.  He came quite quickly towards us.  I got over the fence first.  L kindly held my seaweed for me.

(Extract from diary of 1^st January 1993)

Seaweed is one of my favourite things.  It lies around on the beach annoying most people, but I’m always disappointed when I come across a seaweedless beach.

Sea Lettuce (Ulva lactuca)

I’ve known for a very long time that people actually ate seaweed and when J was little I  used to give him toasted seaweed slices as a treat.  Of course, I bought these at the supermarket, but have also tried eating cooked Sea Lettuce, which can be found locally.  It’s not bad.

I then discovered that it could be used as a fertilising material and would be collected in vast quantities for spreading on the fields.  In fact, the rather prolific and smelly Enteromorpha is still collected locally and helps to keep the shoreline from becoming too swamped.  I didn’t own a cart and horse or ox, but I had a wheelbarrow and when we lived very near the sea I would wheel barrows of it back to the garden to spread on the vegetable patch and add to the compost heap.  I still collect bags of it when I can.

Seaweed collectors from Guernsey in about 1901. One of the postcards I bought on holiday there.

We used to make pictures with seaweed when we went to the beach and when the children got bored with it, I carried on alone…

Recently I used small pieces of dried seaweed to make cards.

 There must be so many other possibilities…

Hopscotch

We were reminiscing about hopscotch and I was shocked to discover I’d never taught L how to play it.  P and I had once had an exhausting session out on the road when she was quite a grown up teenager.  We must teach the babies (when they’re old enough of course).

I wondered if I could find any instructions?  Oh yes, there are many, but not for the version we played.  The best thing is to try and describe it.

All you need to start it is a piece of chalk and a flatish stone to throw.  Draw the hopscotch like this:

It all starts when the first person to have a go throws their stone onto the 1.  They then hop and jump their way through all the numbers and back.  This is easy at the beginning when you can do one hop on the 4, 7 and 10 and put two feet down on the other numbers.

Your turn ends if your stone misses landing on the right number or you put two feet down when you’re not supposed to, or if you jump on the square that the stone is on.

You then throw your stone onto all the numbers, one by one, and repeat the same hopping and jumping.

Then it becomes a little more interesting –

Once you have worked your way through all 10 numbers you are able to claim a square.  You show this by writing your initials in the corner like this:

You will be allowed to put both feet down on this square, but other people won’t be allowed to jump on it at all, even though they will still have to land their stone on it when they reach that number.

The winner of the game is the one with the most claimed squares at the end.  Of course, the more you claim as you go along the easier it is to win.

I’m so sorry that I never taught L to play this when she was young.  She would have loved it!

 

Cabin Fever

J and I went for a walk.  We found 2 horses and a crowd of chickens, who all rushed over to see us.  One of the horses was obviously a bit too excited to see us and started to break the fence down.  We didn’t hang around too long.

(Extract from diary of 1^st December 1984)

Sometimes you need to get out of the house, but it’s not always easy to think of somewhere to go.  Just walking around can be boring, but there are things you can see or do without paying an entrance fee.

One of the first trips I took J on when he was just a few months’ old was to see the chickens.  We lived on a housing estate, but just on the edge was a small farm, and on this small farm was a field of chickens.  When we got to the wire fence separating us and them, they would charge towards us with great speed and enthusiasm.  J seemed unperturbed by this and I’m sure it has stood him in good stead for the varied experiences he has subsequently had.  When faced with strange things, I’m sure his subconscious tells him ‘I survived the chickens!’

I was always on the lookout for things going on that we could go and see.  Here are a few good ones:

Workmen and building sites (someone’s always mending a hole in the road these days)

Watching street lights being mended (they have those amazing cherry pickers)

Go through a car wash

Watch a car being washed

Feed ducks

Bottle bank

Visit a pet shop

Wander round a local market

Visit the library (sometimes we went twice in one day)

Ride on a bus

Ride on a train

Stand on a bridge (if it’s over water, play Pooh sticks)

Visit the beach – collect stones with holes in, build a sandcastle, make a seaweed picture, make a sand sculpture, go beachcombing, look for other sorts of ‘treasures’, gather materials for craft activities

Go wool gathering (a traditional activity which I’ll talk about more later).

 

The Path Garden

Most people have never seen a path garden.  The main reason is because they don’t last very long – they’re here one moment and gone the next.  They are also quite rare.  In fact, I’ve only every made one in my whole life and that was about fifty years ago.

You first need a bit of spare path that isn’t going to be walked on for a while.  Then collect all sorts of interesting stones, sticks, leaves, flowers, grass, bark, seeds, moss, lichen, soil, etc.  Make a round or square border with the sticks or stones, then create a beautiful garden inside with all the other bits and pieces you’ve collected.

I remember the day I made the path garden and I’ve thought about it many times over the years.  I was all alone and I think it took me quite a long time.  I don’t remember what it looked like when it was finished.  All I do know is that I was really pleased with it and it was important to me.  After I’d gone indoors, my mum went out to look at it with the man over the road who was an ambulanceman and had very dark Brylcreemed hair.  I don’t know why I remember that.  Perhaps the fact that other people wanted to see it was also important to me.

If you would like to make a path garden too, but don’t have a bit of spare path, perhaps you could use an old tray or plate instead.   That way it would also last a bit longer.

The Squirrel Trap

There was a very bold squirrel in the garden today, which caused L to rush out into the wet garden with just her socks on.   J and P built a complex trap, where the squirrel was supposed eventually to land in a small bucket of water, and I presume when it had bedraggeldly climbed out, it would be shot by the new Bow and Arrow (sic).  I explained how cruel this was, so the plan changed to building a house instead.  A wooden box full of grass, a sheltered bit, a bucket of water to drink, a climbing pole, some nuts from the larder and the remains of J’s and L’s dinners.

(Extract from diary of 23^rd October 1989)

This is one of my favourite photos – the children posing with the ‘squirrel trap’ and L eventually equipped with wellington boots.  I remember this as being a good day – minimal arguing, working and playing together nicely, having ideas, using imagination, practising construction skills, developing kindness and compassion…

As for the squirrel, we saw neither hide nor hair of it again.

No, it wasn’t Squirrel Nutkin in our garden. We had a grey squirrel.

A Little Introduction

It’s sad to live in a society that only likes dripless candles and Christmas trees that don’t have falling pine needles.

This is something I found written in one of my many old notebooks. I probably wrote it during the 1990s when these sorts of things were important to me. At that time I would put a candle in an old bottle and the wax would roll down and stick to its sides. After several candles, the rolling wax would produce an interesting and colourful effect. I also taught my children to enjoy the satisfying sensation of hovering up the Christmas pine needles. We had to take turns – though I think it was the only time in the year anyone else was keen to help clear up!

My children now have children and the world still changes. I still bemoan the passing of many things, but as and when I can I squirrel away those that I think are important, either in a cupboard or in my mind. So, in my next blog I will bring out some ‘Pots of Gold’.