Saturday 4 November 2006

Mummy's Memoirs, Part 8

Heres Part 8, enjoy.

The Reluctant Bather

One day it was very cold, I came home from school and Mother was not at home. I was quite pleased, I mooched around. Then I thought I will wash the floor for her. She’d be so thrilled.

The floors were bare boards. Continuously scrubbed so they were very white. I got the bucket and water, scrubbing brush, soap and water.

It was nice splashing the water on the floor and scrubbing, pressing the brush into the soap and scrubbing. After a while I got tired of it. I hadn’t finished the room but even then Mother should be pleased that I had helped her.

But Mother did not come. I went around to her friends. No Mother, where was she So I walked into the town looking for her. On the way home I passed the outdoor swimming pool.

She was nowhere else, she must be in there.

So I went to the cash desk and asked had they seen Mrs Robak? They didn’t know Mrs Robak but they would call her. I heard a loud tinny voice repeating over and over again “Mrs Robak please come to the cash desk”. Mother did not come. She must be dead. I had searched everywhere.

I returned home and thee was Mother as mad at me as ever. My floor washing job was the cause. I had put so much water on the floor it had run through the ceiling into the flat below. I was sorry and miserable and cried.

Mother was even crosser when she found out that she had been called over the tannoy in the swimming baths. The shame of it. People would stop and ask her if we had any trouble, to be summonsed over the loud speaker in the swimming baths, was someone ill? Accident?

All the nasty busybodies could keep nothing to themselves. I thought.

After all, she might have just been there. Been drowned and no-one would have known if I had not gone there. But she was not to be convinced. If she was out when I came home, I must stay home quietly. Not announce to the whole town she was not there to look after me. What were people thinking of her?

She was a respectable woman. The whole town knew she had been summonsed in the swimming baths. She would never live down the disgrace etc., etc. I could not understand it. You’d think she’d been out and got drunk. The scarlet woman of Berndorff, Mother! No fun in her. She didn’t even know how to swim.

I told her how frightened I had been that I had not been able to find her.That pacified her and she took a ball out of her bag. She had been to Winer neustadt to hospital for an examination. They had told he she had a slipped intestine, that’s why she was always constipated.

The Dentist

In school one day there was great excitement, the dentist was coming around to see our teeth. We were lined up in the corridor along the large windows in a row. The dentist came along inspecting the children’s teeth. When he reached me I was told to open my mouth wide, then he said “Look at that bird”, I looked - he put his pliers into my mouth and pulled out a tooth! How could I have been fooled like that!

One day I had been tormenting my Mother to let me out on the sledge but she would not let me go.

Father came home from work and announced he was going to the dentist. At once I had a toothache! I must go too.

So we got dressed, and on the sledge we went to the dentist.

When we reached the dentist’s house I got quite frightened.

I climbed the cement steps slowly. Outside the front door there was a scraper for shoes. I scraped and scraped mine until Father got impatient, so I had to go in with him.

The smell in the house was awful! I started to panic, I did not have a toothache anymore. But Father said the dentist must look at it and it would be better to have it out.

We sat down. I was feeling sick! We sat there - I wanted to go to the toilet. Father asked the receptionist where it was and I crept out of the waiting room, straight through the front door and only stopping to collect my sledge - I was off. I went through the town and into the hills.

I stayed there as long as I could. My feet were soaking with the snow coming over my Wellingtons.

When I arrived home I had to bend over the chair again.

I was whacked until I promised I would never do it again.

Father had been so ashamed - waiting for me to come back from the toilet and then to find I had run away. The dentist had been so shocked to think Father possessed such a naughty child. Father would never be able to, through him embarrassment, have his teeth seen to because of me.

Of course I had to some more chair bending.

I always used to be in trouble with them. About that time my mania for washing myself started.

I noticed one day after they forced me to wash myself how good I looked after the wash.

I was so impressed at the improvement of myself “before and after”! The mirror hung on the wall just above the stool where the wash basin was, so I was able to observe myself. I repeated the experiment. It worked.

When I used to be out to play I’d go straight to the mirror. I looked awful. Sometimes I didn’t even recognise myself. This hideous looking thing, me! I’d get the water in the bowl and wash furiously and coming out of the towel I’d look at the effect - it was me - all clean. It was amazing the difference it made “before and after”. When I was clean everyone would be so nice to me. If I came home all puffed out with running, Mother would be all nasty and sneering. I’d look in the mirror, no wonder. My face was black, sweat running in streaks down my forehead.

After a magical wash I’d let mother catch a glimpse of the beautiful vision that had been submerged under the dirt and she seemed to soften, be nice to me = so I had found the secret of my success until Mother realised that after a wash I looked better than her.

When visiting with Mother, as soon as I’d get in the house I’d realised people weren’t talking to me, just talking with Mother or if Father was there - Father.

Of course I knew what the trouble was - I was dirty. So I’d go up to mother trying to tell her I must go and wash She wouldn’t take any notice, just kept on talking - talking and talking!!

I’d touch her on her hand, trying to get her to notice I was trying to talk to her, the more I pressed the more bangs I’d get. I knew that she knew that I was there, her eye was watching me from the corner but she would still pretend I was invisible. But of course the people we were visiting would eventually become aware that mother wasn’t quite with them with all the knocks she was giving me. So they would try to find out what I wanted. Being very shy and modest it took some time for me to confess that I must have a wash.

Mother’s face would turn terrible. She’d give me one of her most searing looks. “You wash when we get home” and the more she’d try to stop me, the more the hosts would insist on granting me my wish.

I’d wash, the ice would be broken. Everyone would agree what an angel I was. No other child ever wanted a wash. I was petted and praised by everyone except Mother, who would pretend she was impressed too - but giving me all the time those hard flinty, glittering looks I knew so well, already anticipating what to expect as soon as we were out of the house. She wouldn’t forget either . I’d try to forget all about it, hoping if I put it out of my mind she was bound to forget. No matter how long we stayed, how happy she seemed with the people, it all came back to her the moment we were left in each other’s company.

I’d be forewarned what would happen when we’d go visiting I was to keep quiet. No washing! If I was asked to take something twice - cakes etc., I must refuse. People must not think that just because I was as skinny as a scarecrow that I was not fed. One cake only and no washing. People would think we had nowhere to wash or too poor to buy soap. But of course the moment we were in I’d feel dirty and of course things would take their natural course as always with me. Washing - eating more than one cake - bends over the chair when we got in.

I’d cry myself to sleep, dying to get up to wash in case someone saw me with all the tearstains on my face. The house might burn down and I’d be found dirty.

 

Mum always loved washing and looking nice, she was never without her lipstick and powder.  I still have her last make up bag with all her bits in it.

Terry

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

I love reading the story of your mother's trials growing up.  How things have changed.  Hope you have a great weekend.  'On Ya' - ma

Anonymous said...

Well I am going to the dentist on Monday ,so if I have to wait in the wating room to long agonising ,I know what to do lol Great storys these I love them  ,.,love Jan xx

Anonymous said...

I love reading your mums memoirs

Deb

Anonymous said...

I love reading these entries but this one makes me feel sad, it brings back a lot of unhappy memories of my own and I really feel for your Mum.

Linda x

http://journals.aol.co.uk/lindaggeorge/GeorgeMansions/

Anonymous said...

(((((((((((((((((HUGSTOYOU)))))))))))))))))))Thank you for sharing your storys with us.Have a great day.

Anonymous said...

Oh my goodness, your mother was such an appealing character as a little girl  She makes you understand just how her washing fetish came about, no matter how she got punished.  Thanks for posting.  I have to smile when I read her words. She also paints a picture of both her parents that is I think very accurate and fair. I just love her view of life.  Gerry