Stillmeadow Friends

"The past is a foreign country, they did things differently then".
"The Go Between" by L.P. Hartley.

Dear Shelley,

When I was a little girl growing up in North Wales, the winters were much snowier then than they are nowadays. To see the mundane grey winter roads and gardens and slate rooftops transformed into a white fairytale wonderland was utter ecstasy and felt like birthdays and Christmas all rolled into one and then doubled.

Just thinking about it now takes me back over the years and to when I was a child in Aston Grove.

I can still hear my father saying, "Its warmed up a bit and I think we're in for some snow"!

And at the first mention of the word, like a sentry, I would watch the laden, buttermilk-tinted clouds in anticipation of that all amazing and absolutely magical, first flake.. Then I'd run into the house shouting, "It's snowing!, It's snowing"! My mother would take a swift look outside and remark, "Just a few flurries that's all - I hope it doesn't get any worse".

Nothing could dampen my excitement. I'd watch the six o'clock news with eyes peeled for Michael Fish the weatherman to place that all important white cardboard snowflake exactly on our spot on the left side of the U.K. map. SNOW...6 inches...YES!!!!

Then I would shoot off upstairs to signal the news with my friend Linda who lived right across from me, but didn't have a television. We learned morse code together so we could "talk" to each other at night from our bedroom windows, flashlights blinking on and off, to and fro. Tonight we decided was a great night to make lollipops on our bedroom windowsills. There was no central heating then and our rooms were cold, so a cup of fruit juice would turn into a frozen treat by morning.

Sleep was out of the question just yet, so after the flashlight had been put away and bedtime declared, I would stand quietly shivering in my flannel nightgown, scraping jack-frost patterns from off the window pane, cold bare feet on icy linoleum, watching the snow fall silently in the glow of the street light. Life, I thought, just doesn't get better than this.

I would be up with the dawn in the morning, no need to wake me up today and even with the curtains closed, the bright white silence in my room tells me what is waiting outside... Bliss.

With a breakfast of Scott's Porridge Oats to warm the inside of me, and dressed in several layers of clothes under my tightly zipped blue quilted anorak and thickly socked feet stuffed into shiny wellington boots, my hand knitted pom-pom hatted head would be outside almost before the rest of me, a carrot in one mittened fist and two small lumps of coal in the other. A lovely snowman was to be the first order of the day, and then I'd be off sledding with my friends down a steep hill close-by. I always prayed my brother Peter wouldn't turn up because he always pushed me too hard and made me go flying through the air tumbling over and over, knocking the wind out of me

Then there was snow-angel making in Carole's front garden and sharing a bag of slightly limp chips kindly supplied by someone's mother. Well sprinkled with salt and vinegar and wrapped in grease-proof paper and damply steaming newspaper, nothing ever tasted better.

Later on, tired and frozen I would be hauled inside for hot Ovaltine, wet wooly mittens drying on the hearth by the fire, and dire warnings that my fingers could drop off if I ever did that again, but I always did...

Sometimes the snow would melt by the next day, but if it re-froze again, well, that was Heavenly too because that meant ICE and sliding all the way home from school, and sucking on drippy, slightly gritty icycles broken off the shed roof, and then getting shouted at for climbing up there by our neighbor, Mr. Williams the policeman...I was terrified of him, but that's another story and many confiscated tennis balls ago.

Such memories Shelley. In those days life came to a standstill when we had snow. Our town didn't have a plough. People left their cars or bicycles parked at the house and walked to work if it was close enough. Women made do with the food that they had in their kitchen cabinet, and kindly lent a cup of sugar or jug of milk to a neighbor who needed it and It was always dutifully returned. People watched out for one another and truly cared. (sometimes they also knew a bit too much of everyone's business!!) In years, it's not so very long ago, but it was such a different world then.

I'm glad that Scooter liked Emma's letter. Cats are something aren't they? Emma treats me exactly the same way. With just one look she has this gift of making me feel guilty or inferior and sometimes both at the same time!!

I'm glad you got the cookbook. I've got two of hers and love to go through them and read all the comments. I've made a lot of her recipes too. Have you made her blueberry muffins?!

Oh I'm like you in the fact that I want to try to get everthing done at once, but I find when I try to do that I achieve less than if I set a few goals, one day at a time. But being a natural procrastinator I always tell myself I'll get it done tomorrow :)

Well, I'm off to the real world again now, vacuum and then stoke up the woodstove and on to the supermarket.

Take care Shelley and lots of love,
Susan
XXXXX
New Boston,
New Hampshire.