"The Crest of a Wave"

Fitness in the Camp Ground circa 1953

There has been a Boy Scout Club in this small town for several decades, but last year it closed, in spite of plenty of support from the kids but parents couldn’t find the time to help!

Then last week I read that due to the “cuts” in the English government spending Scout groups are expected tp pay as much as 5000 pound a year to rent a hall from a local council that is roughly $7500!

My Dad was in the Scouts, camping 1927

The Scout movement was more use to me than the Grammar School I went to, I learned how to work and play with other teenagers, how to live together in a tent cook on open fires and prepare several gallons of porridge for the next days breakfast. How to chop vegetables without chopping my fingers, and how to peel and eye 100lb of potatoes while laughing and joking with the other boys.

Returning from Jersey at the age of 15

Learned how to wash my neck and both sides of my arms ready for morning inspection, washing being done in a local stream, and how to use a toilet built over a hole in the ground dug by the older boys.

We went on two week camping holidays, over the sea to the channel Islands, down to the Cornish Coast, and up to the Scottish Highlands near the port of Oban.

Every weekend we stayed at a small cabin in the Pennines about 30 minutes away from home, and we got there by piling into the trailer part of a truck and off we went rain or shine, and nobody ever got bounced out!

The Gang Show, see how many boys were involved!

Once a year our Troup put on a “Gang Show” based on the music by Ralph Reader, and there I leaned how to wear stage make up and in some sketches dress up as a woman, do stage falls and trips, and sing in harmony with the other boys.

And during all that time parents weren’t involved at all, other than be the audience for the shows and provide the money for the camping trips.

As time has gone by unfortunately liability issues has changed the rules when I was a member of a troop we had a leader (Akela) his assistant and a couple of Rovers (Scouts over 15 years), now though the leadership is the same there has to be so many adult volunteers per so many kids, and unfortunately parents are too busy earning a living it is very hard for them to volunteer.

And so there are now no Cubs or Scouts and no Girl Guides in our small village of Schomberg. We do have lots of kids playing hockey though so all is not lost!

PS "Riding along on the Crest of a Wave" is one of the most popular gang Show Songs by Ralph Reader

Baubles ,Bangles and Beads.

Bright shiny things

I have always been attracted to bright shiny things, they seem to make me feel happy. When I was quite young about five years old I would visit my Grandmother who lived with us, she lived in the downstairs part of the house overlooking the garden. The room always felt warm and cozy a coal fire always lit two comfy chairs on either side of the fire, one an old Windsor chair that now resides at my sisters house in London.

Winter evenings were best for me, I would sit by the fire and ask if I could play with a "Diddy Box" she called it, it was full of old buttons, from brass ones off my Grandfathers uniform to coloured glass buttons from dresses long gone, beads that needed stringing, broaches that were never worne. It was like finding treasure and kept me fascinated for hours asking Gran what did this belong to, who wore these buttons and so on she always had a tale to tell with each piece or button I took out to show her.

Pill boxes and others

 I think that really started me off loving to look in jewellery stores desperately wanting all the glitter under those special lights that made everything look so interesting. Gran had a saying for me "All that glitters is not gold" it wasn't till much later in my life I understood what she meant, even so I do have a jewellery box with many trinkets, probably not worn as often as I should, I do have a couple of special bits some buttons my grandfather used to wear on his dress shirt and a tie pin with the smallest sapphire you can hardly see, but, they mean a lot me.  Good Ole Gran.

P.S. my Daughter doesn't wear much jewellery, but, my Son loves to wear a ring or three! strange that!

Food Glorious Food

Showing my age a little, hopefully it will be worth it!

Fresh veg
From Photo By Lisa Curtis-Rice

Lately both of us are becoming used to the idea of being extra careful regarding the food we eat. Prices right now seem to be going up for staples, bread, flour, cereal, veg meat and milk. We like a variety of food and appreciate the fact we live in a country where there has been plenty of it.

Somehow along the way things have changed so much with eating habits: working parents not having the time to cook because of their stressed lives. It is very sad to realize fast food has almost become the norm along with rampant obesity. It turns out Mum's worry that we would never grow up normally because of  the shortage of food due to rationing  was ill-founded and , boy if she could see some children of today she would know she did a great job bringing us up and teaching us how important it was to eat our veggies and value each meal.

Tripe, calves heads pig's feet etc
Photo from Wikipedia

We both had a moment looking back to our early childhood when we had just enough food to keep body and soul together. Mothers were ingenious at finding ways to make ends meet. Although very young I always knew when mother would try to encourage me, by saying tonight we are having a treat. Offal back then was used a lot more than it is today, and my instinct would kick in and would know it would be something I didn't like, stuffed heart, stuffed marrow or faggots and peas ( a West Country delight of liver, lights onion and bread crumbs made into little balls and covered in caul the lining of a stomach!) When this was served and I managed a bite or two the reward would be a dessert of pink blancmange in the shape of a pear from a mold. Another delicacy of the time bought at the pork butcher was something called chitterlings boiled usually with a little malt vinegar poured over pepper and salt, chitterlings are the pigs inners! I managed not to be around when that was on the menu for tea. Tripe and Onions poached in milk another goody! I don't know of anyone these days delighting in the old traditions

Queuing up for meat

For me (John) rabbit was on the menu at least once a week, very good too when cooked in a pie, I can remember the local butchers shop with dead rabbits hanging in the window!

Kids were privy to orange juice and dried eggs, which came from the USA. Dried eggs could be reconstituted and made into many meals, orange juice was a teaspoon mixed with water, cod-liver oil once a week was given too and  at weekend a good dose of syrup of figs (yuk) all to keep the growing generation healthy as possible,. A small bottle of milk each day at school was mandatory. Crates would be delivered to the school and handed out at morning break, in summer would be slightly warm and winter ice would form on top, difficult to drink that way! There were no refrigerators back then.

When things got back to normal and food in better supply I was to find out what an orange or banana looked and tasted like! When the Vegetable shop put a notice up “Oranges Now In” there would be a rush to the shop with ration books in hand. We stood in a queue waiting patiently, one orange allowed per family member, same with bananas. Many a time I would have to run to the shop ahead of mother and stand in line to make sure we had a chance to get our ration before they sold out! I can remember the first taste of an orange and still it makes my mouth water just to look at them, with bananas I was very suspicious after mother yelled before I took a bite “Wait you have to peel it first.” I found it an interesting flavour but a bit weird when it was in my mouth.

Glorious food how precious it was back then, and our only fast food was the local fish and chip shop,  always on Friday we would have cod and chips lots of malt vinegar and salt, wrapped in newspaper to take it home as fast as we could to enjoy it. Always a treat and even more so nowadays that cod is a luxury becoming almost extinct!

Jamie Oliver

People seem to have lost so much interest in cooking now that there are so many restaurants and fast food chains to tempt people not to cook at home. So I bless the Food Channel and particularly Jamie Oliver who crusades in many countries trying to encourage folk to get back to basics and actually cook fresh food and to enjoy every morsel even if it is just a couple of times a week!.

Today we are having a traditional Sunday dinner: roast lamb with mint sauce!
Don’t turn up your nose it is very delicious!

Old but not yet Masters

Tomatoes by John

When we are not blogging or doing household chores we paint, currently John is painting the bedroom walls, but the real painting we enjoy is on canvas or board.

Both of us have a keen interest in painting anything from landscapes to grandchildren. We must admit we are a little late in our lives to take up the task of trying to make a masterpiece, but, what the heck we thought we'd have a go, and set off 5 years ago to a place in Barrie that was just the job for art supplies, Currys. Going through the door we felt a bit like a couple of old farts that should know better. It was quite an experience picking out canvas, paints and a few brushes.

After paying for our new hobby we got home and Babs realized although loving art she never had worked on canvas or used oil paint! John had done a fair bit of painting in the 70's and we had a few pieces of his work hung up in our kitchen. So at least one of us had a clue!

Tomatoes by Babs

Our first attempt was to paint some tomatoes on the vine, and after a lot of trepidation we  took the plunge with  tiny brushes and small canvases! After a few tries we realized Van Gogh doesn't live here. Babs is what you might call very parsimonious with the paint and not a loose painter either her tomatoes could have been mistaken as red currants as they were so tiny! John on the other hand with great gusto did the same picture and came up with beautiful glowing red orbs of juiciness with lovely green leaves they looked good enough to eat.
Since then we have progressed John more experimental and looser with painting and Babs still berating the fact that talent isn't the word she could use for her efforts, but being determined and stubborn she tries, cries and tries again!

We encourage one another to continue, which is wonderful and it's amazing really  how we both enjoy the practice and effort to turn out our creations. We know deep down our families think we are eccentric but, manage to give us some praise for our efforts when they see our latest product!

One stroke challenge by Babs

One stroke challenge by Jo

One stroke challenge by John

Church Street in fall by John

Over the last few weeks Babs, and her sister Jo in England, are working in the style of Carol Marine doing 6x6 paintings in as loose a style as possible, while John is doing a series on the village where we live, Schomberg.
Doing art is good for the spirit and an excellent way to manage daily discipline.
Give it a go it‘s good for you at any age!.

Lemons in a glass by Babs

Coffee, cherries & cake by Jo

Flossie by Jo

Hobbies where do they come from?

Crochet in progress

It's February in Ontario, still lots of snow around, but, there is the beginning a hint of warmer weather to come. The birds are singing a little louder and a couple of woodpeckers enjoy the suet square, not much left now, they seem hungry and busy.

It's that time of year to think of tidying cupboards and drawers to see what I have managed to squirrel away for another day, or it might come in handy (one day).

I have a stash of stuff, hobbies that keep coming and going in my life. Now and then I get an urge during the winter months to find a piece of material, my favourite is drop cloths you buy to cover furniture when decorating. I can cut the cloth without feeling guilty and make small cushions, I embroider quotes on them or make up a pattern that takes my fancy, I have a few left, handy for a quick gift.

Embroidered pillow

I love to crochet with cotton thread making mostly small tablecloths as table toppers, very old fashioned these days, I was very ambitious one year and made a couple of bed covers, one of which I kept, the other is in UK on a bed in the guest room, quite proud of that surprisingly.

Knitting socks on four needles, mother taught me that, Granma showed the way to crochet and my Aunt Olga, every Sunday after tea, would teach me stitches of embroidery. Back then embroidery seemed to consist of crinoline ladies holding umbrellas in a flower garden. it was worked on linen for dressing tables or tray clothes. My sister introduced me to tatting I use a needle, but she uses the correct tool for the job and does marvellous work it looks very much like lace.

Three Bears

I have many samples of "stuff" in a cupboard that John won't go near. It consists of old magazines, knitting patterns, and crochet along with samples of work, and some Teddy bears I made. I know very soon I shall have to bite the bullet and have a clear, out at the moment I can hardly close the door!

My daughter has hobbies which unfortunately come and go, she does some embroidery, tried knitting too but never is able to have the time to do justice to her efforts, however she is a super photographer, and  she has a talented eye for it and it doesn't take up space, That is a good hobby. may be down the road she will have a cupboard like mine and wonder where her hobbies come from!

Schomberg Fair by Lisa

Hospital Patience

I was in hospital this week for a very minor operation, a cyst removal that took all of five minutes, and didn’t even hurt, but it made me think about how the experience is now compared to several decades ago.

Preston Royal Infirmary 1960
Image Lancashire Evening Post

When I was about 18 I got a splinter of metal in one eye, I was working as an apprentice at the time, “Better go and get that seen to lad”, so off I went to Preston Royal Infirmary, just a 5 mile bus ride away.
Once in the emergency waiting room I sat on the first empty chair. In front of me was several rows of chairs each row filled with about 15 people in various states of misery.
“Next” a nurse shouted and the person on the right hand end of the front row stood up and went to the nurse, the rest of us shuffled along to the next seat. What a relief, after a couple of hours and shuffling from seat to seat, to find myelf in the “Next” position.

In fairness once I got in medical hands they treated me kindly and got the splinter out quite fast and with little discomfort.

Now we walk in the emergency section of the hospital and in minutes are being interviewed by a very tired triage  nurse who asks lots of questions suffers no interruptions takes a record of all vital signs and sends us off to the left if its critical or to the right if its routine.
Once inside however the door locks behind you, and you wait in a corridor where all the washrooms are for staff only!
Again once the medical staff get you they fixed you up in no time.

Sometimes even visitors have to dress up.

And then there are medical gowns!
The last time I had a minor operation the nurse told me to “ Go into that cubicle, remove your shirt  and put on this gown the opening to the back” I thought "Well I’m not taking my pants off" so I stood in the waiting area removed my shirt and had the gown on in no time much to the horror of the nurse who must have never seen a naked chest before.
Now the protocol has improved, they hand you a plastic bag to hold your clothes and two gowns the inner one to be worn with the opening to the back and the outer with the opening to front, this time I did as I was told.
Only to have everything removed by the Surgeon so she could get at my chest.
Still made no sense to me.

A few weeks ago I had my annual cardiac stress test, and again the gown problem.
“Take of your shirt I’m going to fasten all these probes to your chest” after that it’s onto the tread mill and walk fast and uphill for several minutes. Afterwards the probes get removed and the technician says “that is all I will leave you in private to get dressed” and she left the room discreetly closing the door behind her. I thought ‘Why do I need privacy to don a shirt, when I’ve been topless for the last 15 minutes?”

One day I’ll learn to just do as I’m told and question nothing!

Living in the Now… with Habits

Saint Mary Redcliffe Church, Bristol

Dong, Dong, Dong, the bells of Saint Mary Redcliffe Church started our Sunday morning, then St Lukes followed along with St Francis Church. All three churches within half a mile from each one and we were situated between all three!

They would all start their Sunday morning with a peel of Bells that could truly wake the dead. my sister and I, still in bed, would put our heads under our pillows and wait for the clamour to stop. The bells would gradually slow down until just one bell tolled till it stopped.

That started our Sunday.

HP Sauce ad from the 1950's

We would get up to the lovely thought of breakfast, Sunday was always a bit special it felt differently from the usual busy school week, more often than not we would have back bacon, egg and fried bread with a liberal amount of H.P sauce finished off with bread and home made marmalade and of course a good cup of Typhoo tea.

Next off we went down stairs to Grandma's room to have our hair brushed out from the plats we wore during the week (a protection from getting nits as they called them) we would sit by the fire in which Gran would put a curling iron, when hot enough she tested it on newspaper before curling the ends of our hair ready for the dreaded Sunday School.

I think this is where, as girls, habits were handed down ( not that we knew it then), Mum after breakfast would start to prepare the veg for Sunday dinner, the table cleared and peas would be podded, carrots scraped, mud washed off the potatoes, and if it was roast lamb, a favorite, we were asked to pop down to the garden and pick some mint, even thinking about it makes my mouth water, it would be washed and chopped and mixed with malt vinegar and some sugar in a little jug. Pastry would then be made for the apple pie and apples peeled. More often than not Sis and I would sit at the table chatting, Mum was always in a good mood on a Sunday, I suppose it was girls time.

To live in the NOW, old habits die hard and handed down from mother to daughter. You don't realize it till much later in life it sort of dawns on you especially on a Sunday morning.

Sunday is not just another day even though the pundits might think it.

I still love a good Sunday Breakfast!

Our habits might have changed through the years, but, I still love to have a good Sunday breakfast, then clear up and do the veg ready for dinner, not that it takes much time these days, but, it gives me a chance to relish what our mother taught us; it's the small things in life, no rush, enjoy the pleasure of the aroma from the kitchen the smell of the mint and the apple pie cooking. After all it's Sunday!

Anyone else have a special day?