We wander over to our new garden today - slash and burn!
All this means that I can go on a train trip on my birthday, dining first class - maybe I'll be a lady at last (at least for the day!)
I have been trying new recipes over the weekend, Date, Apple & Walnut cake on Saturday and Moroccan Meat Balls yesterday. The cake is a keeper so that is good, all apples from my tree will go into cakes now. The Moroccan recipe uses up my spice and also mince so I shall add the recipe to my list. It is good to be back in the kitchen again, we are talking of getting the unit so hopefully soon I can redecorate Yeah!!
Continuing:-
Dad always left the house at about 0815 every morning, my father believed in being punctual – his criterion was ‘better to be five minutes early than one minute late’. I think this was drummed into him during his army days but we ‘all fell’ with this routine as well, often sitting at bus station for a good hour before we had to leave!!!
Anyway off he would go, in full uniform and open up the bottom gate, as it was know, undoing padlocks and chains and opening wide the gates. He would then walk up the hill to his hut, unlock and light the fire. This fire was a small wood burning stove on the centre of the one wall, in his ‘office’. It took an age to light so while waiting for this to get going he would set off down to the
Station Road
gates, go through to the paper shop, get his paper and milk, cigarettes and anything else he needed and then open up the gates. Then he went across the park to the lower gate (same procedure of undoing padlocks and chains), up the hill to Redhouse Lane – open the gate – and round the football pitch (Cricket in the summer) – never across the pitch – to the top gate, which was only a single entry and then to the Manor Road gate which was the official entrance and back to his hut.
By the time this routine had been completed, the fire was going strong – not that you would know as it was all contained within the stove - and the hut was all warmed up, time to put the kettle on. On top of the stove was a round plate which covered the fire and, when removed, the wood went into the hole. A small window was at the bottom of the oven through which shone a small light. Dad never left his hut at night without putting all the ashes outside, making a path around the hut and to the ‘changing rooms’. He then laid his paper rolls and wood (or sometimes coke if he would afford it!) inside ready for the morning. So in the morning, he opened the window and lit the paper and then left to open up. On his return to the hut he would put a kettle of water on the plate at the top to the oven and get the pot ready with the tea. If I was with him, two cups would go on the table, the milk bottle and a plate. Then he would sit down to read his paper while he waited for the kettle to boil. Then we would have a cup of tea and a sandwich for breakfast, sometimes we had a bowl of cornflakes but that wasn’t very often, there wasn’t much money to go round so that was a special treat. It was always exciting being in his hut and I wish that I could convey the feelings of it to you – it smelt of Dad, it was special to him and me because it was very rare that Mam ever came and there were no other women, at least not when I was there.
I used to spend all day there in the park and in the winter it was really special – there was no electric so he had a lamp. This lamp ran on paraffin, a strange smelling purple liquid which always amazed me but Dad always seemed to know what he and it was about! He filled the container on the bottom of the lamp and then, after replacing the next bit, lit the wick which was a round piece of mesh but very brittle and under no circumstances was I allowed to touch it. This had to be replaced quite often but why I never knew and there was a lot of swearing attached to this process - probably because it was getting dark and the office was not the most well lit place!!! Anyhow the light emitted from this lamp was soooo bright, I was unable to look at it and it lit up all the corners of the hut. Dad did sometimes hung it up on a hook in the centre of the ceiling but most times just had it on the table. In the winter it was always dark before we left at night although the park was supposed to close at sunset (or 21.30 in the summer – dependant on Dad!!?!) Dad would light the lamp and we would read for a bit longer, we both had library books (that’s another story!) and then came the locking up.
Dad would lock up the hut, leaving the lamp on, and then we would go down to the lower gates and the morning’s work went in reverse. The chains were placed round the gates and the padlock locked into them, sometimes I put the key in the padlock while Dad held the chains or we reversed, Dad put the key in the padlock and I held the chains. Then over to the bottom gate, round to 