I suspect that the fearsome ladies of my childhood are no more – generally, they were rather well endowed round the bosoms area,: without exception, they had voices that could cut through steel. They certainly found you, wherever you might choose to seek sanctuary.
The preference for pastel shade knits was misleading – there was nothing, absolutely nothing pastel about them. About as comfortable as a dragon breathing fire, if you ask me.
Children never got asked – you got told. In forthright terms, with words of one syllable.
Children never got asked – you got told. In forthright terms, with words of one syllable.
It was better not to be anywhere near the ladies, and then they couldn’t get you.
If one of the ladies said “I was looking for you, Diana, I wanted you to bla..bla.. bla” - it was several hours too late by then.
Good Result.
God help a child who forgot the ‘please’ and’ thank you’ bit; at that point a glacial blue eye swivelled in your direction, don’t know what they did with the other one. A bit like a fish being speared
God help you if you forgot anything, really.
The adage ‘Children should be seen and not heard’ isn’t followed these days –get to see (and hear) the little buggers even when you don’t want to. The truth was that adults didn’t want to lay eyes on you, and if they heard you…it was time to run for the hills.
They are not forgotten, the ladies of my childhood although they have gone–trouble is, I’m not entirely sure about that. You might think I have anxiety issues here and your’re damn right.
Yep.
