Hobson's Choice

stumpy wrote:

There is a tendency to forget the bad over a period of time but for the likes of myself and Gordon those bad times are still in the memory bank.

I surprised my mother when she was about 80 and living in England as an immigrant, by assuring her that my childhood out in the bush (sheep farm on the Darling Downs in Queensland) had been reasonably happy. Boring, but happy enough. Not miserable, on the whole, though like Stumpy I can remember some of the deprivations. Our nearest doctor was a couple of hours away at the end of a winding road that meant we arrived sicker than when we left home. In the rain, it was impossible to drive, so our parents had to cope on their own. None of us died, quite, but I recall all five of us enduring a night-long drive to the nearest hospital five hours away because the baby had what turned out to be peritonitis. Parents coped without calling (non-existant) emergency services, and children learnt the art of coping from them. 

Kids played in the dirt, and ate a lot of it, and got worms and septic sores, but they all coped. All of us put up with toothaches until our annual trip to the dentist in the city, who injected us with needles the width of a knitting needle and we cried ourselves to sleep with the pain of the novocaine. Children contracted polio and were crippled for life... The lack of medical care was probably one of the greatest deprivations.

We lived in a world of casual racism and homophobia and misogyny and class prejudice and xenophobia; but it was casual, and only rarely malicious or personal. These days those three caveats would never excuse the five sins preceding them; and I think the world is a poorer place because of that. Over to you, Stumpy...

Fred wrote:

... your post reminds me of what were simpler days in 1960s England.
The downside was the filthy conditions and terrible pollution that was the norm in much of South Yorkshire and the massive number of men who died from lung disease...

Fred, you did well to overcome whatever your family's handicap was. Here's a story you might relate to. This week my wife and I will be breakfasting (at a cheapo caff up the road) with a couple a wee bit younger than us, who were brought up much the same way as you were, probably. His father was a miner up near Middlesborough somewhere; her father a bit better off but not much. He (our friend) was lucky enough to be a natural footballer, and good enough to be paid five pounds a week at age 17. She was "under the gun" aged 16 when they married. She said her father wept in despair when she confessed to being pregnant. We were reminiscing the other day, the four of us, and shaking our heads at the simple lives our families led back in the early 60s. The wife and I haven't come far from our respective beginnings, but the other couple now own an expensive condo on the beach and spend their lives wandering around the world as their fancy takes them.

I must remember to ask them if the sandwiches were good, though, back then.

stumpy wrote:

Thanks for that Gordon. I do remember that quite well. Even went there to watch a game when I was staying with a friend in Toowoomba.

I'm wondering what year you were there, and how much the footie culture had changed since I left Toowoomba for good in 1963. Dad and I used to be devoted to the exciting All Whites team - to Mum's mild disapproval, because the All Whites were an all-Catholic club and Mum was at war with the Micks. (As with so many ethnic nicknames, "Micks" was a dismissive term rather than insulting - although there was no doubting the mutual hostility.) My parents were in a "mixed marriage", which in T'ba meant between Micks and Proddies - nothing to do with race. Here in Cayman, a mixed marriage is between native-born Caymanians and immigrants, regardless of colour or race. It's a messed-up world.

stumpy wrote:

Had a shirt mum made from a flour sack which had "Champion Flour" across the back.
These days you would pay a premium for something like that.

Oh come on! Now you're just showing off!
No, no, I believe you, Stumpy... It made me laugh. We were never that poor!

When I started work in an office after leaving school at age 17, I boarded with a woman in Brisbane, with another three fellows. On the tram home each evening I would get off a mile short of my destination to save a penny on the fare, This on a wage of 6 pounds six and six, back in those days. A colleague of mine here in Cayman was on three pounds a week for the same sort of job, on the Isle of Wight in England. Cripes. How the value of money has changed!

Gordon Barlow wrote:

Those were the days before AIDS was discovered, and nobody worried much about hygiene.

Those were also the days of much more frequent contagious diseases and a far lower life expectancy.
I'd rather live today, when I can have a measured overview of risks I take and decide on appropriate measures. (I don't wear gloves when touching food - washing hands is sufficient.)

Gordon Barlow wrote:

Here's another something that will remind old codgers of how we lived. I remember the days before surgical gloves were worn by food-servers. Does anyone else? In my first job, in Brisbane in 1957, my lunch was a sandwich or two made to order by young men with no gloves. The knives they used were razor-sharp, which inevitably led to a few cuts - as indicated by the spots of blood on their white aprons. Ten seconds away from the production-line while they slapped a band-aid on and wiped the knife with a well-used towel, then back to work. Those were the days before AIDS was discovered, and nobody worried much about hygiene.

Our late mother worked for a local catering company. In all those years I never saw her, or anyone else wearing gloves when making sandwiches or preparing food.