Читать книгу Lost Voices of the Edwardians: 1901–1910 in Their Own Words - Max Arthur, Max Arthur - Страница 71

We sometimes got on with our stepfather, but he never seemed to forget that we weren't his. I remember one night I wanted to go out. ‘Has thee done tha homework?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Has thee washed up?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Has thee done the pit clothes?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well stop in.’ If he was washing in front of the fire and you went between him and the fire, oh my! He had a song he used to sing when he was getting washed, ‘She's in the aslyum now’ – he meant asylum, but he got a hold of it the wrong way. I don't think he could spell asylum.

He was kind with the little uns though, when they were poorly. My mother had quite a few babies die very young, and he'd sit up all night with them. That was one good point he had, but of course they were his. She had eight to my stepfather, and just one lived. They were breastfed in those days, and her body wasn't nourished so she couldn't feed the children.

There were some awful houses, with no road out the back. Ashes had to be carried through the house. We used to have to put old matting down – there was no wash-away closet then – we had ash closets. Everything had to come through the bedroom and the kitchen on to the street. We had to ask the farmer when he could come and take it away, but then maybe something would happen and he couldn't get all ash and stuff out the closet. It would just be lying on the street, then the hens would come and have a feed. Then you'd eat their eggs! They kept the hens on the streets – there was nowhere else to keep them. My mother would never have an egg off anyone who'd got hens on the street, so there were very few eggs in our house.