You might think I have forgotten but contrary to popular beliefs I am not senile as yet. My Grandfather, on my Father's side, was one of those people who howled at the moon. No do not dismiss him for that small flaw; he was a child of the orphan migration. William Smith, named by his adopting family, did not know the name he was born with; in South Africa they would adopt these children from England and give them their family names. William married my grandmother; also an orphan from England, in 1909 and he went to work with the railways. My grandmother was left at home, happy I hope, in her house, children and married bliss.
Nothing could be further from the truth. William was a man who took his frustrations out on his wife, many a violent beating took place until my father said enough, at that stage a 15 year, and he took a beating for disagreeing with his father. At 15 he left home and set about finding a place to live, a job and peace. He never ever spoke to his father again. Just before he died, he spoke to his mother, time had hardened her opinion of him and it was not the best of telephone conversations. I cannot pass an unbiased judgement but it was my father and I cannot understand how someone who gave birth to her child, nurtured that wee boy and finally, when he was at the end of his life, shunned him?
We have the people below to thank for all of us being here:
'The Children's Friend Society was founded in London in 1830, as "The Society for the Suppression of Juvenile Vagrancy, through the reformation and emigration of children". The first group of children was sent to the Cape Colony in South Africa in 1833 and did not stop until 1960, Nine years after I was born and 32 years after my father was born. Did they do the right thing?
Tonight I celebrated my love for food, Merlin brought home eggs from her fellow work colleges and being true to the British way they are the most nurtured chicken ever. Those conscientious wives even go so far as to dating the eggs when laid (see photo). I used the leftover chicken from last night’s roast chicken, fried with garlic, bacon, chilli and red sweet pepper, left to simmer for 10 minutes in 200ml of chicken stock while the pasta was cooking. Just before the pasta was ready I tossed in a cup of frozen peas and drained the pasta. Now the exciting bit, specially dated eggs (2), dollop of olive oil and crushed black pepper, mixed and then mixed with the pasta and peas, finally added to the chicken mix, and we all ate a hearty supper.