Part 5 - Mummy's Memoirs

Here is Part 5, hope you enjoy.

We children used to collect may flies in match boxes, hoping to find the largest. We would compare them with whose was the largest, fattest, whose could walk the quickest. They were like big beetles, brown in colour with large soft wings. They would fly around and it was quite easy to catch them, they were so large and clumsy.

I would be busy catching as many as I could. Mother did not like them, so I was not allowed to bring them into the house. I would let them go in the evening, so in the morning the work would have to begin again in case I met someone with a larger collection of may flies than I had.

Strolling players and gypsies would come round. They would come and play musical instruments. There would be bears on chains that would dance. Great big bears, their mouths all dribbling. We would stand around but watchful that the bear would not get too near. Sometimes big boys would throw stones at the bear. They would run behind it pelting it with stones. The bear would make horrible noises, and I would be sure somehow he’d loosen his chains and get hold of me. All the people in the house would come to watch these entertainers. Then one of them would go round with a hat for a collection .

The town we lived in was called Berndorff which means the village of the bears. In the place where the last bear had been caught was erected a stuffed bear in a cage.

The town was surrounded by mountains. There was a big mountain just past the town, it was mostly forest and at the top was a pub where people would rest for refreshments. Children were allowed in pubs in Austria, food would be served. In the evening there was singing and dancing.

Big groups of yodellers would sing and zithers and violins were played. It was very gay.

We would go out on Sunday and walk all day. Some of the mountains had caves in them and big boys would climb inside them popping out high above and disappearing again and then coming out again until they reached the top of the cliff. I would want to do it too but mother would not let me.

At the end of Summer the women in the block would take great bags and go together to the forest. In a clearing there were blackberries, miles of them it seemed to me. They would pick the berries for the whole day.

I would help too, eating and picking until I was tired, then I would go into the Great forest with my friends. It was beautifully shaded with big pine trees, some of the trees had little pots under them to catch the rubber, a hole was made and a ridge of the bark was cut up.

There were beautiful flowers in the forest, pink bells like fuchsias and mushrooms but without Mother I would not pick any in case they were poisonous.

Great deer could be seen, you’d come of them standing stiff with great antlers on their heads. I used to long to stroke one, but as soon as you even flickered an eye they would bounce off.

The blackberries would be cooked and preserved for the winter. I don’t remember eating any other jam but blackberry.

My favourite food was large slices of rye bread with pork dripping and paprika sprinkled on it.

We would cut off the green tops of onions, pinch some of mother’s washing powder, stir it with water in a cup and blow bubbles with the green stalk of the onion. We played with hoops, yo-yos, tops. I especially liked a top with a ridge in the centre which would be put on a string which was held with sticks and the string pulled up and down, the top would spin. If it spun quickly enough you could even throw it into the air and catch it on the string again.

I went to kindergarten too in Austria but don’t remember much about it.

At seven children went to school. I was very excited. There were the school books to buy, pens, pencils, a wooden pencil box with a slide top for the pens and pencils. Ink and books for writing in. But the best of all was the dark brown leather satchel. It had straps of leather at the back, so you put your arms through each of the straps and you carried it on your back.

Everything smelled wonderful. I sniffed and sniffed. The leather of the satchel, the smell of the books, pencils and pen and ink. I don’t remember all that much of school. It was a tall old-fashioned building in the town centre.

Before school Mother would send me in the co-op shop to buy crisp rolls which we would eat with cocoa made with milk. She would cook that on a small mentholated cooking machine. The smell of the meths and cocoa rolls with butter. It was lovely. Then I’d be off to school.

One day I was throwing snowballs, I hit a girl. She was very cross and threw snowballs back at me but we became great friends. Her name was Gise John. She was my very best friend. She lived in the next block in our road. We were inseparable. I used to sneak my sledge out in the morning and she would be waiting. We would ride the sledge to school. One would sit on, the other would push and then climb on the back seat when the speed was fast enough. We would leave the sledge in the bushes outside the school. Mother had said sledges weren’t allowed in the school, and did not know I took mine.

Milk was brought for break-time but I did not like it although the small bottles looked so nice, I could not drink it. It made me feel sick.

I soon learned to read and write, the reading book was mostly fairy stories - Hansel and Gretel, the goat with the seven kids and the wolf etc. I would read and read. I read everything I could get my hands on.

One day a piece of paper was put through the door. I read it eagerly, you could pay so much a week to be cremated. Easy terms. No worries to relatives when you died. It would all be paid for.

I could not understand it. What was cremated? I rushed upstairs to Frani - “what is cremated?”. Why would the relatives have worries when you died?

“Burn you”! I could not believe it! Supposing you were not really dead, what would happen then?

Even if you die your soul still lives, if they burned your body the would die. I was horrified. I went cold and numb all over. I had not thought of death for so long. I could not die. I would not be burned. I remember going to the cemetery, there were apart from the graves walls with little doors on them with the person’s name, date of birth and death engraved on them. A little stand or rack to hold flowers in. I used to wonder how small the little cupboards were but decided they must hold very tiny children.

Now I knew. They held ashes in a vase. If their relatives went abroad they could be taken out and taken with them.

I shuddered! For weeks after I used to lay in bed and think about dying and being burned. I’d see the coats at the back of the door moving and I knew it was the devil after me, trying to make me die. I’d scream and my mother and father would come and take me into the kitchen and give me bread and milk. Then father would carry me into the bedroom and put me into his bed.

I would turn my back to him and he would hold me. I would talk until I was tired then say “I’m going to dreamland, dream of me”. So I would fall asleep but every morning I would be back in my hated bed again. The clothes on the back of the door would be clothes again. I was very good for a long time, to show them if I died I was too good to burn.

It seems my mum was fascinated by death at a very young age!!!

Catch you later.

Terry