Juice!

I remember the fascination of Mulberry Juice. I know this a memory that’s a little off blog topic, but Stephen reminded me of it today.

I would have been about 5 or so, and the older boys were all out into making weapons – blow darts in particular. I remember the aluminium pipes that would be selected and the fistfuls of Mulberries that would be carried around as everyone hid around the backyard before an all out war would ensue. I distinctly recall that someone was camped out in the Mulberry tree itself with an endless supply of plump, juicy berries that were perfect ammunition.

The white shed always got covered with the bloody juice (much to mum and dad's endless horror), impact spots that would slowly dribble down before the heat of the day made them impossibly sticky and nearly impossible to wash off.

Not to mention us. Usually dressed in some sort of Indian or cowboy ensemble, hands tacky beyond recognition from handling the delicious ammunition, with the odd impact mark on our bodies, staining everything.

I remember being fascinated at the way that the juice would stain the skin. It would persist after numerous scrubbings and copious amounts of soap. But it would colour in waves. It would stain once, and then if you covered the area again you would get a new tone of mulberry.

I recall studying my hands as a child, and wondering how it did it. How a delicious little berry that had numerous uses for games, for food, for drinks, for cakes, for jam, or just to simply freeze – could make such beautiful contours of colour on my hands.

I miss that tree.

Granny's linen cupboard

Granny was a great housekeeper and cook.  I've been thinking about house management tools and tips a lot lately, and remember Mum saying that when Granny had truly run out of jobs to do, she would refold and straighten everything in the linen cupboard. I wonder if I'll ever be that far ahead?

I know that Granny had a strange washing machine (twin tub?) and we used to use a long stick to push clothes under the water.  She hung her peg basket on the line beside her as she pegged things out.  There were always lots of towels and beach things to launder during our Summer holidays in Ulverstone.

Grandpa's hands

I remember sitting beside Grandpa on a single sofa seat in the lounge room at Claire St Ulverstone examining his hands.  They were large, and old.  The skin on his fingertips and palms was thick.  I remember being fascinated with how I could lightly pinch or press the skin, and the pinch or press would stay!  It was a totally relaxed snuggled up sort of occasion, and he let me turn his hands this way and that to look at them closely and touch them.
They were gardeners hands, workshop hands and artists hands.  They made everything beautiful.

Welcome

Remember all those Grandpa stories?
This blog is aiming to be a shared memory book, a tool to create a written record of stories from our grandparents and childhood.
I don't remember all the details, and I remember that stories sometimes changed! It's too big a task for one person, and one person couldn't do it accurately, so I thought that blogspot could help, and you of course!

You will need to provide me with your gmail address.

If there is a memory or story that is important to you, that you would like recorded for posterity write it down here. If anyone has anything to add they can post a comment or make their own blog entry. We should end up with some complete stories for editing and maybe publishing within the family. No hurry, no pressure, and if this doesn't work, we'll eventually think up something else. I expect this to take a couple of years with varying degrees of activity from time to time.

Try to make the titles a short summary, so we can sort and edit accordingly. Don't worry about any chronological ordering yet, write the important ones or the ones you best remember first.

Some story suggestions: how Granny and grandpa met, rescues and near misses, the aeroplane factory (secret plans), vicks bombing, working for walt Disney, shortage of art materials during the war, date disrupted by low flying plane, discovery of ammunition storage (?true), how to cook a native hen, granny ending up as a nurse, wartime injuries, coming to Australia, blonde Granny (anne) in India, The trunk, Childhood memories from ireland, growing up in a pub, the ghost in the pub, wanting to play piano, making icecream with salt and ice from custard, finding beauty in a brick wall, grandpa knowing when babies had arrived, Granny (anne) embarrassed about her wierd non-australian lunchbox, Auntie Peggy etc. Granny cake, Grandpa's love language, his shed and tools, the garden and summer holidays...
There's Nanna too (not that she told us stories, but there is some history that is of value to be recorded).
Feedback and further suggestions very welcome.

Love
Miriam