Monday, March 16, 2009

my dear aunt mavis forward/ferguson/butler near blorenge ... and in 1943, with her mother violet, my grandmother




when mavis was very small, perhaps around the time that the great first world war was ending, mothers would dress their girls all in white at whitsun
some miners, bringing a wagon full of coal down from their hillside pit, discovered her dressed just so when she had wandered off too far from home that afternoon, and they brought her back sitting on top of their coal
she recalls that her mother "was not best pleased"

4 comments:

Rouchswalwe said...

Oh my! But what a great story. The adults could never keep little me from getting my clothes dirty, and just as in your Mama's situation, things were often simply beyond my control back then.

tristan said...

there is still some perverse wayward part of my intelligence, slightly unhinged from the rest, that instinctively leads me into trouble every now and then, against all the dictates of common sense

Lucy said...

Bless!

I love it that Blorenge is the only word that rhymes with orange.

tristan said...

theresgorrabesummatelse ...