Got One!

02/11/24

Way back in May I was bemoaning the fact that I couldn’t find any true happy memories to put in my Memory Mansion.

Well, it might have taken six months, but I’ve got one! A pure, happy, untarnished memory has surfaced. It was a smell that triggered it.

I was doing some ironing.

Sorry, I had to stop there so this could be fully digested:

I. Was. Doing. Some. Ironing.

Me, the one who doesn’t do ironing (careful purchases and tumble dryers negate the need, I find).

The person who hates ironing so much it was the sole boundary held regarding household chores, throughout an abusive 20 year marriage.

Yeh, me.

I was ironing!

Back to the point, so I was ironing a cotton shirt and that very specific, slightly scorched smell of hot iron on fabric wafted up, instantly transporting me to the kitchen of (one of) my childhood home in Wales.

(I say ‘one of’ as we moved house a lot. In hindsight, I realise it was mostly because we were either going somewhere to be with one of mother’s appalling partner choices, or we were running away from them. Not the point in this entry though!).

And there sat the memory.

I was around 8 years old, and I think I had chicken pox. I know I was off school, but my siblings weren’t. Being kept off school was almost unheard of, and that school never closed, even when we literally had to bring our little shovels and dig out way through the snow to the door. I think it’s safe to assume I was actually sick.

Rassgat was at work so I was free from the anxiety his presence induced in me.

Anyway, it was just me and mother, in the kitchen.

It was a cold day so the Rayburn was lit, heating the room, and slowly cooking dinner at the same time; the air was a warm and steamy.

The radio was on, the Archers had finished, the two of us dah-dah-dahing along with the theme tune (which I can still sing now, even though I haven’t listened to the Archers since the storyline involved Shula’s school exam results – about 45 years ago.)

Now mother was listening to Woman’s Hour (with Sue McGregor) while doing the ironing, a slightly scorched scent in the air as the hot iron pressed the creases from dresses, shirts and trousers.

I’d finished doing my maths worksheet and was quietly playing on the floor with my dolls, waiting…

Waiting to hear the radio announcer say, “And next, it’s Listen With Mother“.

She put down the iron, collected her cup of tea, sat in the old Windsor chair, and patted her knee. I happily climbed up, snuggled back against her, luxuriating in this undivided attention, and sighed contentedly as I heard the words, “Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.“

I don’t remember the story narrated on the radio that day, but I do remember how secure, and loved, and special I felt, sharing this cosy time with mother.

I now have one pure, untarnished, precious memory; enough to have a Memory Bedsit. There surely must be more? I mean, fair enough, my path to now has been crooked, steep, rocky, and perilous at times, but surely to goodness, somewhere amongst all of the crap, I can dredge up more than just one?

The unexpected surfacing of this memory gives me hope that more will come. I also place hope and faith that the path is clearing, and up ahead are many, many untarnished moments of joy, just waiting to be experienced, to eventually become careful tended inhabitants of my Memory Mansion.

MUSIC OF THE DAY: She Sat ‘Neath The Lilac – Traditional (I don’t know who this lady is, but she’s adorable)

JP