Once upon a time there were 2 little girls and their 4 cousins. They all ranged in age from about 4 to about 13. It was Christmas Eve and the children were all staying at their grandparents house for Christmas.The grandparents lived in a big farmhouse with a wrap-around verandah around 3 sides of the house. The children were ready for bed, baths were done, pyjamas on and stockings (actually they used pillowcases) had been put out waiting for Father Christmas to fill them. There was an air of general excitement and anticipation in the house.
Suddenly, there was a tremendous sound of running down the passage (wooden floors are noisy, you know) and one of the children spotted Father Christmas escaping through the side door! Then there was a shout, someone else had seen him looking in one of the windows. They rushed to the windows and he was seen running along the verandah, down the steps, jumping into the sleigh and taking off into the night sky (!) Of course, there was huge excitement after this. The children all wanted to check their stockings, but there parents would not let them, and made them wait for the morning. Of course, this made the children all believe strongly in Father Christmas for many many years!
Behind the scenes: I found out many years later, that it was my uncle who had dressed up in a Father Christmas outfit and run through the house and around the verandah, looking in at all the windows. The joke of it all: he managed to lock himself out of the house and so had to wait for ages before he could get in without letting us children see. All in December in South Africa, where it can get up to 30degrees at night, dressed in a hot, felt outfit!
BTW: The sleigh was a fabrication of all our imaginations, but we all saw it, lol.
Storytelling Sunday is a monthly meme over at Sian's blog.
Showing posts with label Storytelling sunday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storytelling sunday. Show all posts
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Story-telling Sunday
I was reminded of this story by my mother the other day and although in hindsight it is a bit embarassing, I had to share it. Especially in view of the ending.
My oldest cousin Seona is about 8 years older than me. As a result, her and my second oldest cousin were always in a different life stage than the other 4 of us cousins. My eldest cousin, Seona had a boyfriend called Gary throughout her high school years and being a relatively close family we all knew each other well. When I was around 8 or 9, I fell desperately in love with Gary. I idolised him with that puppy love that I am sure that many others can identify with (well, I hope others can anyway). I spent my time following him around, talking to him and trying to get his attention. It became so bad that I would actually try to insinuate myself between him and Seona continuously. He was always very sweet to me, but of course saw a little girl, but I saw myself as his girlfriend. Needless to say my cousin was NOT impressed and extremely unhappy with me, lol. In retrospect I have found out her mum talked to her regularly about it to reassure her and the adults always tried to distract me to go and play with other kids. Fortunately it was just a month or so after this that my cousin finished school and they both went off to university and so we didn't see them nearly as much. The relationship didn't last and my cousin eventually married another guy who had been waiting in the wings for years and they are still married today.
Fast forward nearly 20 years. The occasion: my cousins second childs christening. My daughter, Brenda is about 15 months old. Since, she was a typically active toddler I spent the majority of the service outside with her at the kiddies play area. There were a few other parents there, but most had smaller babies. There was only one child of walking age who Brenda was desperate to play with. He, unfortunately was terrified of her and kept running away. She would go up to him with a toy and he would run to his father. This happened nearly the entire morning and even at the party afterwards. The funny thing (or I thought so, a bit shamefacedly) who was the father? You guessed it - Gary, my cousins ex boyfriend!
This story is part of Sian's Storytelling Sunday.
My oldest cousin Seona is about 8 years older than me. As a result, her and my second oldest cousin were always in a different life stage than the other 4 of us cousins. My eldest cousin, Seona had a boyfriend called Gary throughout her high school years and being a relatively close family we all knew each other well. When I was around 8 or 9, I fell desperately in love with Gary. I idolised him with that puppy love that I am sure that many others can identify with (well, I hope others can anyway). I spent my time following him around, talking to him and trying to get his attention. It became so bad that I would actually try to insinuate myself between him and Seona continuously. He was always very sweet to me, but of course saw a little girl, but I saw myself as his girlfriend. Needless to say my cousin was NOT impressed and extremely unhappy with me, lol. In retrospect I have found out her mum talked to her regularly about it to reassure her and the adults always tried to distract me to go and play with other kids. Fortunately it was just a month or so after this that my cousin finished school and they both went off to university and so we didn't see them nearly as much. The relationship didn't last and my cousin eventually married another guy who had been waiting in the wings for years and they are still married today.
Fast forward nearly 20 years. The occasion: my cousins second childs christening. My daughter, Brenda is about 15 months old. Since, she was a typically active toddler I spent the majority of the service outside with her at the kiddies play area. There were a few other parents there, but most had smaller babies. There was only one child of walking age who Brenda was desperate to play with. He, unfortunately was terrified of her and kept running away. She would go up to him with a toy and he would run to his father. This happened nearly the entire morning and even at the party afterwards. The funny thing (or I thought so, a bit shamefacedly) who was the father? You guessed it - Gary, my cousins ex boyfriend!
This story is part of Sian's Storytelling Sunday.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Storytelling Sunday - Two little girls
Todays story is in honour of my mum (still alive) and my aunt who died in March. At her memorial service my cousin gave a talk and a couple of the things he talked about were a couple of things that I used to laugh about with my mum. So, when my cousin talked about it I realised it must have been either genetic or that it was a product of their isolated childhood!
Once upon a time their were two little girls, called Pat and Dos (short for Dorothy, also called Dorothy Dumpling). They lived on a farm outside a small village called Mooi River. Their farm was quite far outside of town and being the 1940's just after the war, life was very different and not as fast as it is today. They had electricity but it was powered by a generator, so at 8pm their father would make tea and then turn the electricity off and everybody went to sleep! They had piped water, but it came from the dam on their farm. Cars were not as fast or as common as they are today, they did not go to town very often. Their father used to use the truck for the farm and if their mother did go out she mostly left the children at home (accompanied of course). Anyway, this left the children at a loose end and since toys were not as advanced and they definitely did not have playstations and TV's like todays children they very often had to make up their own games. Some, very creative game inventions occurred. Dos used to pretend all sorts of things were farm animals, twigs, stones etc she would build "paddocks" and pretend to herd her "sheep" into the paddocks and that sort of thing. They rode horses, went for walks and had a very free childhood. One of their favourite games though, was to pretend to be cattle. This entailed going around on hands and knees with things stuck into their hair for horns, bending over and biting the grass. However, funny as this may sound, this was not the funniest. The piece de resistance was that they would take their fathers socks and put them into their shorts to pretend that they were bulls! Needless to say when Pat and Dos grew up and told this story to their own children, it caused much hilarity.
Although that was my story I would just like to add an aside about their food habits. This was brought to my mind by a comment that jimjams made on my last months story. Pat and Dos grew up to be teenagers and since their was no close High School they were sent to Boarding School, where the food was probably not quite what they were used to. They developed some wierd habits to try and make it more palatable, these 4 are just a few:
For more stories pop over to Sian's Storytelling Sunday
Once upon a time their were two little girls, called Pat and Dos (short for Dorothy, also called Dorothy Dumpling). They lived on a farm outside a small village called Mooi River. Their farm was quite far outside of town and being the 1940's just after the war, life was very different and not as fast as it is today. They had electricity but it was powered by a generator, so at 8pm their father would make tea and then turn the electricity off and everybody went to sleep! They had piped water, but it came from the dam on their farm. Cars were not as fast or as common as they are today, they did not go to town very often. Their father used to use the truck for the farm and if their mother did go out she mostly left the children at home (accompanied of course). Anyway, this left the children at a loose end and since toys were not as advanced and they definitely did not have playstations and TV's like todays children they very often had to make up their own games. Some, very creative game inventions occurred. Dos used to pretend all sorts of things were farm animals, twigs, stones etc she would build "paddocks" and pretend to herd her "sheep" into the paddocks and that sort of thing. They rode horses, went for walks and had a very free childhood. One of their favourite games though, was to pretend to be cattle. This entailed going around on hands and knees with things stuck into their hair for horns, bending over and biting the grass. However, funny as this may sound, this was not the funniest. The piece de resistance was that they would take their fathers socks and put them into their shorts to pretend that they were bulls! Needless to say when Pat and Dos grew up and told this story to their own children, it caused much hilarity.
Although that was my story I would just like to add an aside about their food habits. This was brought to my mind by a comment that jimjams made on my last months story. Pat and Dos grew up to be teenagers and since their was no close High School they were sent to Boarding School, where the food was probably not quite what they were used to. They developed some wierd habits to try and make it more palatable, these 4 are just a few:
- If they had sausages they were apparently a bit dry generally, so they would slice them lengthways, butter/jam them (just like you would a slice of bread) and then put the pieces back together, just like a sausage sandwich
- peas always had vinegar and sugar added
- they would butter bread, add salt and pepper and eat it just like that. Apparently if they closed their eyes they would pretend that it was avacado on bread
- they would thickly butter two slices of bread, spread a thick layer of sugar on one, put the other slice on top and pretend it was cake!
For more stories pop over to Sian's Storytelling Sunday
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Story-telling Sunday
Sian from From High in the sky hosts this bloghop every month. I have seen it around but never joined in in the past. Sian's post this month was titled Some days are diamonds and this got me thinking about the days that stand out for me.
When I was a child, my father and his brother had a huge argument and didn't speak for many years (maybe another story telling Sunday post.) As a result we spent very little time with my fathers family, my grandparents would visit us but we never went to my uncles home. That, coupled with the distance they lived from us meant I grew up almost entirely influenced by my mothers side of the family. My mothers father had come to South Africa with his brother in the 1930s leaving the rest of the family in the UK. As a result we were a relatively small bunch, but very tightly knit. We would get together with the extended family periodically, but the main event of the year would be a big family party on the Sunday between Christmas and New Year. Held by my great aunt at their farm, my grandparents, our family, my aunt and family, as well as my mums cousins and their families would all be invited and I guess it was expected for us to attend. Being from a small farming community there were also a few non-family regulars that attended as well. We would always stay at my grandparents the night before & I was very impatient for everyone to get up and get going in the mornings. I was very young, but I remember that there was always so much to do for us kids. Pony rides, tennis, swimming, snooker, darts, they had a slide and climbing frame, we would run wild through the nearby woods and all in all just have an amazing day. There were always lots of kids ranging from babies to young adults. Somebody would always start either a cricket, rugby or soccer game and we would all join in. There was usually a buffet meal and we would just help ourselves whenever we wanted. Of course, being the 70s we were told not to bother the adults and definitely not to eat before the adults. But, I can clearly remember that my great uncle would always give me sneak portions of my aunts divine meringues with cream. Needless to say to this day I am a sucker for eton mess, pavlova or any dessert with meringues in! Unfortunately eventually the older generation got older and no one in my mums generation continued the tradition. I often wish they would have!
For more stories hop over to Sian's blog (link above)
When I was a child, my father and his brother had a huge argument and didn't speak for many years (maybe another story telling Sunday post.) As a result we spent very little time with my fathers family, my grandparents would visit us but we never went to my uncles home. That, coupled with the distance they lived from us meant I grew up almost entirely influenced by my mothers side of the family. My mothers father had come to South Africa with his brother in the 1930s leaving the rest of the family in the UK. As a result we were a relatively small bunch, but very tightly knit. We would get together with the extended family periodically, but the main event of the year would be a big family party on the Sunday between Christmas and New Year. Held by my great aunt at their farm, my grandparents, our family, my aunt and family, as well as my mums cousins and their families would all be invited and I guess it was expected for us to attend. Being from a small farming community there were also a few non-family regulars that attended as well. We would always stay at my grandparents the night before & I was very impatient for everyone to get up and get going in the mornings. I was very young, but I remember that there was always so much to do for us kids. Pony rides, tennis, swimming, snooker, darts, they had a slide and climbing frame, we would run wild through the nearby woods and all in all just have an amazing day. There were always lots of kids ranging from babies to young adults. Somebody would always start either a cricket, rugby or soccer game and we would all join in. There was usually a buffet meal and we would just help ourselves whenever we wanted. Of course, being the 70s we were told not to bother the adults and definitely not to eat before the adults. But, I can clearly remember that my great uncle would always give me sneak portions of my aunts divine meringues with cream. Needless to say to this day I am a sucker for eton mess, pavlova or any dessert with meringues in! Unfortunately eventually the older generation got older and no one in my mums generation continued the tradition. I often wish they would have!
For more stories hop over to Sian's blog (link above)
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