Confessions of a serial mower - Peaches, no cream
My late paternal grandfather; the gentleman farmer, the rich man, the horseman, the very cruel man.
For all his airs and graces, his smart handmade suits, his car, his house on the hill, he was heartless and cold..
My grandmother, Anna, who died when I was about 11, had a horrible existence.
She was never allowed out alone.
She lived for Wednesdays.
This was the day he went to market. Whether it was the corn market or the animal auctions I cannot recall. Do you know what she dared to do then? She opened a tin peaches and ate them all! The sheer indulgence. Can you imagine? The highlight of your life, being a tin of peaches. Groceries, bread, meat, everything was delivered to the door and sometimes she managed to order a tin, without him checking the orders. She had no money of her own. He paid for and checked everything. They even had the first telephone in the village but he was the only one allowed to use it.
Who would she ring anyway? Her friends all drifted away, driven off by the fierceness of Grandfather. She became blind in her old age and grandfather put her in a home.
As far as I know, no one else had a say in the matter.
We all lived in fear of him.
She told my mum, and she in turn told me, that when she was pregnant with either my father or my aunt, she was never allowed to open the door to anyone. In case they saw “the state she had got herself in”!
Obviously they had no internal plumbing and the water was drawn from the pond.
They had a stone water filter that lived in the dairy I remember, which adjoined the scullery. The kitchen; and I can still smell that stale milk and damp stone smell, was a
brick floored, huge bare cold room with a copper in the corner and a range along one wall. It had a channel running in the floor through to the outside, for swilling out the spilt milk and floor washing water.
Romantic it was not.
My brother lives in this fine house now. With his designer kitchen, utility room, and
blackened range. The renovated water filter sits iconic in the corner. The brick floors shine with polish.
His version of events long gone are quite quite different from mine or my mothers’.
In this drinking water pond I was told a child drowned. Who she belonged to I never did discover. I knew never to go near the pond. I imagined if I did I would look down and see this little girl still lying there, staring up at me like some Hitchcock movie. I hope it was a rural myth to keep us away from the water. I fear it was not. No one stopped drinking the water anyway.
It is not a happy house, even now, for its finery. It never feels warm, it stands isolated
and alone. It affords some of the finest views in Suffolk. It still has the pond. Appearances can be so deceptive.
For all his airs and graces, his smart handmade suits, his car, his house on the hill, he was heartless and cold..
My grandmother, Anna, who died when I was about 11, had a horrible existence.
She was never allowed out alone.
She lived for Wednesdays.
This was the day he went to market. Whether it was the corn market or the animal auctions I cannot recall. Do you know what she dared to do then? She opened a tin peaches and ate them all! The sheer indulgence. Can you imagine? The highlight of your life, being a tin of peaches. Groceries, bread, meat, everything was delivered to the door and sometimes she managed to order a tin, without him checking the orders. She had no money of her own. He paid for and checked everything. They even had the first telephone in the village but he was the only one allowed to use it.
Who would she ring anyway? Her friends all drifted away, driven off by the fierceness of Grandfather. She became blind in her old age and grandfather put her in a home.
As far as I know, no one else had a say in the matter.
We all lived in fear of him.
She told my mum, and she in turn told me, that when she was pregnant with either my father or my aunt, she was never allowed to open the door to anyone. In case they saw “the state she had got herself in”!
Obviously they had no internal plumbing and the water was drawn from the pond.
They had a stone water filter that lived in the dairy I remember, which adjoined the scullery. The kitchen; and I can still smell that stale milk and damp stone smell, was a
brick floored, huge bare cold room with a copper in the corner and a range along one wall. It had a channel running in the floor through to the outside, for swilling out the spilt milk and floor washing water.
Romantic it was not.
My brother lives in this fine house now. With his designer kitchen, utility room, and
blackened range. The renovated water filter sits iconic in the corner. The brick floors shine with polish.
His version of events long gone are quite quite different from mine or my mothers’.
In this drinking water pond I was told a child drowned. Who she belonged to I never did discover. I knew never to go near the pond. I imagined if I did I would look down and see this little girl still lying there, staring up at me like some Hitchcock movie. I hope it was a rural myth to keep us away from the water. I fear it was not. No one stopped drinking the water anyway.
It is not a happy house, even now, for its finery. It never feels warm, it stands isolated
and alone. It affords some of the finest views in Suffolk. It still has the pond. Appearances can be so deceptive.
21 comments:
Oh Mousie that was sad. Your poor granny. But I love her little rebellion with the peaches. Good for her. Toady
Wow, Mousie, a deep one. Some houses just seem to absorb events into the very brick. Ironically, I also wrote about my Nan's house in my blog today, but fortunately it was a happier home. I really felt for your poor Grandmother and could almost hear her smacking her lips afterwards and saying "There, take that, you old sod!". x
oh Mousie, I know such a house in Somerset, so grand and beautiful on the outside and full of unhappiness within, was thinking of it today in fact ... keep smiling xx
I thought that was really well written Mousie. It was sad but you painted it all in my minds eye.
Love thinking about your Nan on a Wednesday.
It is strange how houses can take on a bad 'aura' about them isn't it?
warm wishes
xx
PS-btw-thank you for your comments on Orange Man Blog. Interestingly, I didn't have a diary back then-as I have gone through it all I recall it as clear as if it happened to me yesterday some of it. I was ready to do this and it is giving me quite a lot of peace and closure.
(about time!!)
However you may be interested to know, that the day THE BIG THING happened to me (as mentioned on the other side) I started writing a diary from the very night I found it all out. I don't know to this day what made me do it. I never had a diary before. I went and found a blank exercise book and wrote it all down for about 2 and a half years and one day I stopped, as suddenly as I started. One day I will write those diaries and get them published to help someone going through a similar thing.
But you will be pleased to know I won't keep you all hanging around 2 and half years as I go back through them,-will pick out pertinent ones...now THAT will be be tough for me, but needs doing...
Want so much to move on from it all now...
Bye for now
warm wishes
xx
PPS-I am going to start the shopper bags in the next few days-not happy with durability of the felt lettering, so I am trying few other things. Will be in touch soon.
x
Rather a haunting tale. I really wished I could have turned the clock back to give her a happy life.
I wonder how many women lived trapped under the despotic thumb of a bullying husband? Probably more than we think.
I can just imagine the pleasure she must have got from eating those peaches.
Very well written and moving - I now feel as if I knew her.
Peaches will take on a new meaning. A symbol of daring, bravery, independence, and spirit! A remarkable lady!
extremely atmospheric. That poor woman.
That's so sad. Somehow, though, the fact that you know what she went through, that you feel for her, and that you mind on her behalf, helps a little.
That was very haunting and evocative Mousie. You write so sparsley and I felt a lot of anger there (unsuprisingly). We should all eat a tin of peaches as a private rebellion, now, in memorey of your grandmother. I'm so glad she had that, unreal though it seems to us now.
Wow, I loved this post. That house sounds worth investigating. I feel so sad for your grandmother. It certainly rang some bells, my late father in law was very similar in his attitude towards his wife (my late mother in law). I only hear from speaking to people who knew them but he also kept her in the house, only 'allowing' her out on certain days to go shopping. She never drove and so had to rely on him for everything. Being a farmer, he always had an excuse to get his own way. There are many names I could call him but I won't. He's passed on now and will hopefully find peace.
Crystal x
That was so sad about your Gran, she must have suffered dreadflly, what a shame the clock cannot be turned back for her to have had a better existence.
Camilla.x
How different our lives are from our grandmothers'! It's hard to imagine a life with little pleasure beyond the hidden peaches - or one in which a young woman is made to feel ashamed (by her husband!) of her pregnancy.
You've alluded to your break with your brother - is he a lot like your grandfather? I feel that there is more to come.
Poor poor woman. I feel the pain that other people suffer sometimes and it almost makes me not read the blogs sometimes. I dread to think what her sex life must have been like if that's the way he behaved towards her. It reads like something out of a Catherine Cookson book.
I had a house blessed recently. It sounds like this house could do with it too.
I try not to think about what she suffered too much.
My brother is not cruel like grandfather - he jusy thinks himself rather grand - and any mention of the hardship and the reality of how our grandparents actually lived is quickly discounted. He pretends it never happened. I will try to think how to blog about it in fairness to all.
Such a sad story. But perhaps we should not judge people from the past by our own standards. We are fortunate enough to take equality for granted but it is not that long ago that women did not have the vote and their property passed to their husband when they were married. That is the world that your grandparents grew up in and their expectations were different to ours. I do not mean to excuse but perhaps put into context behaviour that to fortunate women in 2007 seems very cruel.
I do think most people expectations even in th 50's were more than a tin of peaches.
My father then went on to almost replicate his father - this being the example he was set. I hope my generation has now broken that cruelness.
Gosh, mousie - what a sad, restricted life your grandmother must have lead. It's incredible to read about what women must have had to put up with in the past. Thank goodness times have changed.
Brilliant and very sad blog, Mousie. Your poor Grandmother sounds as though she was led a terrible dance; makes you realise how lucky we are. By the way, have been doing a catch up and loved your lists - I, too, hope never to be divorced again (though perhaps I should marry Dave before worrying about that one!) xxx
Your poor Gran - how awful to be denied your basic rights as a human being and to look forward to a tin of peaches. I hope she found some happiness in her life - it does sound so bleak and controlled though and I guess in those days you couldn't just leave. Perhaps she found happiness in her children.
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