You may recall me mentioning that I was a cadet in the British Red Cross. Once we were taking part in a parade through town. I can’t remember what the occasion was now and actually, it doesn’t matter, more to the point we were instructed to be smartly ‘turned out’. Senior schoolboys today would not be seen dead in short trousers I suppose, but in my day, we were allowed to grow up slowly and generally enjoy our adolescent years. So short trousers it was. All my trousers were ‘hand-me-downs’ and well patched and normally this would not be a problem, but mum was determined that I would not let the side down, so she completely re-seated a pair, and guess what, I was considered to be the best-dressed cadet on parade. I only mention this because poverty, and we were really poor, is nothing to be ashamed of but with an attitude of contentment, maybe even celebrated. I think this must have been the attitude that sustained my mum throughout her long years of poverty and hard work after my father’s business collapsed. It was some thirty years before Dad finally got his discharge paying off all his debts.
Sadly, today, there seems to prevail an attitude of ‘entitlement’ eating its way like a cancer through society and dare I say, through the Church too with its emphasis on prosperity, whether health, wealth or success.
I can only recall Mum getting angry with Dad once. She had prepared a roast dinner, a rare and expensive treat, for we were generally brought up on rabbit, pigs trotters, pigs heads from which mum made chawl, and tripe, offal, chicken and the occasional game that dad would bring home. I am not sure what the problem was, probably the expense, but she lifted the whole joint off the table, put it in the fire and scooped coals over it. I don’t think Dad ever grumbled again and neither did we children for we were brought up never to complain. We always emptied our plates and were thankful. We were brought up never to say, “I want”, if we did, mum’s reply was always “I want never gets”. Echoes of the first few verses of James maybe.
In Mum’s later years, like the apostle Paul, I am sure she would have said:
“I have learned to be content, whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or want.” Then after a short pause, “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Philippians 4:11-13
Looking back, if Mum had one scripture that could be said to characterise her life it would be:
“But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.”
1 Timothy 6:6 -8
Mum not only patched my trousers, but also darned my socks, while dad cobbled my boots studding the heels and soles with hobnails. On winter nights we boys would love to walk down the middle of the road making sparks by kicking our boot heels on the hard surface. We would punch holes in the sides of tin cans, thread wire through the top, fill them with live coals and swing them round and round, sometimes above our heads. An uncle would visit us by bicycle equipped with acetylene lamps. I would love to clean these for him, polishing the brass until it shone like a mirror, at the same time ‘pinching’ some acetylene which I would put into a Tate & Lyle empty treacle can with a spot of water, seal the tin by replacing the lid tightly, move to a safe distance and wait for it to explode. Quite a dangerous pastime! Another uncle completely lost a couple of fingers in this way. Sometimes we would knock on doors, hide and wait to see what happened when the occupants answered the door. On the second or third knock, they would shout into the darkness words that I won’t repeat here! All good mischievous fun! During summer we would play cricket in the middle of the road, occasionally breaking a window. There were no parked cars lining the streets in those days!
In many other ways, our poor estate enriched me so much that today’s children I feel miss so many of these simple pastimes replaced by designer clothes, trainers, mobile phones and X-boxes etc., etc, etc.
I have no recollection of family holidays, but I did have the opportunity of spending summers on a small holding belonging to an aunt on my father’s side and her husband. There were pigs for which uncle would collect pigswill from local people and churns of milk unsuitable for sale from local farmers. I loved to scoop, out of the churns on returning home, lumps of butter formed from the shaking of the churns during collection. Feeding the hens, ducks, turkeys and geese, not forgetting the pigs. I loved mucking out, collecting eggs each morning and, most especially, watching them hatch in paraffin-heated incubators. Goslings were my favourite. From hatching I would handle them and experience the thrill of them imprinting and following me everywhere I went. These were halcyon days.
I remember on one occasion Mum saying that I was an ‘unwanted child’ or words to that effect and I can well understand why, after all, who would want to bring a child into the circumstances she was thrust into through no particular fault of her own? You may be thinking what a cruel thing to say but her love, sacrifice and commitment cancelled out any resentment or bitterness I may have harboured and so taken into my later years. I have often pondered this. Love does seem to cancel out a multitude of sins.
If ever there was a role model, Mum, it was you. You finished well too, and I want to do the same.