MORE ON SUNDAY SCHOOL

MORE ON SUNDAY SCHOOL

Once a year all the Sunday school kids had a special day.  It was our Anniversary.  This day was special because it was the day we got to show our parents just how much we had learned.  We got into our class groups. We were all up the front of the hall, and everyone could see us.  It was really scarey but at the same time it was cool and exciting.

The service itself was only one stage of the day.  The other thing was it was a total dressup day.  This meant mum  took us into town for a visit to the shoe shop.  The man was really friendly and did everything we asked of him.  There were shoe boxes all over the floor of the shop.  He didn't seem to mind but that was probably because there were 5 girls wanting to be fitted for new Sunday best shoes.  So one way or another he knew he was going to make a sale.  My older sisters were first to have their choices fitted.  We  usually wore black patent leather shiny shoes,  but one of my sisters as i think I said already liked bright colours,  If she couldn't find a pair, she would buy a pair and take them home and use shoe colour and paint them.  The rest of us were quite happy with what they had in the shop.  It was so exciting going home with our new shoes.  We were allowed to put them on for a few minutes when we got home to show dad.  I remember tapping the clicky heels on the floor and feeling real grown up.  They always had a bow on the front, and once I remember one of my sisters had a pair where the bow was on the seam at the back.  They were real way out. 

Then there was the dress.  Even though mum made us some really beautiful dresses, she thought we had to have bought ones for this occasion.  We trooped over the road to the dress shop.  I can't remember what it looked like in this shop, but the man who owned it went to the same church as us, so I guess he looked after us pretty good.  

Ok, so we get to church and sit in our classes.  Each class gets to sing a couple of songs and then the presentations begin.  All year our teachers have kept a record of when we attended Sunday School, and marked it down somewhere.  Also how many times we learned what the message on our weekly ticket said. Once the singing was over and a few prayers said, the prizes started coming.  Us little kids usually got a book with a special  awards sticker in the front.  Our name would be called out and we had to get up and walk to the front and receive it. It was real scarey but we felt very proud.  I remember sometimes for some reason I don't know, some of the older girls and boys got a book but also got a picture.  They were gorgeous.  They looked like they were stuffed and laminated.  They had a doda on the back like a photo frame. I think my sister and I got one one year. We must have been real good that year.  

After the show, there was a big feast out in the back hall.  The people who went to this church, were mostly farmers and their families, so there was always a jolly good feast.  There was everything all at once on this huge table.  Though the food there was great, I must say there wasn't much I didn't see at home.  My mum made jam and relishes from our fruits and vegies, and she was a darn good cook.  We always had wonderful mains and just about every night we had dessert.  We had birthday parties for every one of us and always had a big fruit cake that mum iced, and always put s little doll or something appropriate on the top. We always had a great time.  I miss my mum.  She was the most wonderful lady and the most loving gentle mum I have ever met.

I was talking about her at work the other day, about when she had to go to hospital to have a baby, and I wondered how she got there.  It was miles and miles away, and we had no car. (they were quite rare in our neighbourhood)  So if anyone who reads this, knows the answer, leave a comment please.  Thankyou for your time. Hope you enjoy reading it. Bye for now.  

The Last Few Days.

THE WAY I SEE IT

The last few days have been a little bit up and a little bit down, and just like Robin Hood said, sometimes the ups out number the downs, but not in Nottingham.  (or Kingston)

 Well last week I applied for a job working in the kitchen of a pretty well know  restaraunt.  I had seen this advertised three times before.  Once I rang and told the guy about my experience and stuff, and he said he'd be getting back to me.  Well he FORGOT TO.  So the next time I saw it (which may I say was the following week) I thought i'd try again.  This time he rang me back.  We set an evening when I would go in and have a trial.  It was three days (nights) later.

I turn up and am feeling a little nervous, as you do, trying out for a new job.

I was told the first thing I would be doing if I am the lucky winner, was cleaning the toilets and vaccuming the dining room and bar areas, and washing said floors.  Ok.  I'm shown the vaccume cleaner.  Never seen one like it before.  I'm to carry it on my back.  The guy who works behind the bar has to help me put it on.  I thought it was a funny situation, but he obviously didn't.  I go into the loos and do them.  That done, I move to the dining rom.
Now I don't know if any ones ever seen a bull in a china shop, but that's how I felt.  All the tables are set for the evening meal.  Lovely glasses all set out.  Therein lies my dilemma.  With this contraption on my back, I was finding it difficult to get into the areas which need vacuuming.  Everytime I turned around I had to place my hand on the back of the machine to know where it was headed.  Would be just great if I managed to clear any of the tables of their beautiful glass wear before they had even been used. Fun times.  (And i'd have to clean that mess up as well.)
That finally done, without I'm pleased to report, any breakages, I headed into the kitchen to begin the next stage of my initiation.
The first thing I see is the humungous pile of dirty dishes.  They were obviously not cleaned from lunch, or as I thought whilst cleaning them, a week ago.  Stuff was soooo stuck on I had to scrub them with the steel thingo and even then some things had to be soaked.  No kidding,  the bench was so loaded up, I wondered if I would ever finish this lot before that evenings dishes would begin.  The tap which had only hot water, was a bit wobbly, but I pressed on regardless.  Not knowing where things went, I had to keep asking the chefs.  I began to remember, when I was putting a large plate where I was told to, and the other chef told me it went somewhere else.  Ok, I'm here trying to get a job, so who am I to say, No It Doesn't Go There.  As I was about to put it where is wasn't supposed to go, the nice guy said "that goes under the bench"  I looked at the other guy and gave him a look as if to say, "you are a JERK"  He obviously felt an affinity with me. NOT!  As I was taking stuff out of the dishwasher I would put them on the bench to air dry, as I was told to do, when JERK comes over with an armfull of dirty bowels, and pans, and has the gall to say "Keep this bench clean" And proceeds to stick all this dirty crap on the bench.  At that moment I decided I wouldn't work in the same kitchen with him no matter how much the pay was.
I continued working flat out, and finally finished.  
My next task was to peel potatoes.  Now that sounds ok right?  I was given a 44 gallon drum to fill with spuds, which I had to peel. (Actually  no, but it was a huge bucket full.) Now I suffer from Carpal Tunnel, so I knew this would be fun. Stupid job to apply for you say?  Well probably, but it was evenings and suited me.  Anyway I peeled the spuds and had to fill the bucket with hot water, and as I did the tap got wobblier.  I noticed a small puddle of water gathering on the floor.  I mentioned this the Jerk and Mr nice, and Mr Nice said, it was the connection to the dish washer, so I thought ok, even though I knew otherwise.  I did the spuds, and was told that was it for the night, meanwhile the small puddle was now a huge one.  Mr Jerk asked me to carry the bucket over to the fridge and put it inside.  As I began walking, I realised it weighed a ton.  Mr Nice suddenly appeared and took it off me and put it away. I put a cloth on the floor to mop  up the puddle, and was ready to go.  I said seeya and was thanked by Mr Nice and the bar man, but Mr Jerk said not a thing, so I turned and said "You are an arrogant pig" and left.  He has an ego of huge proportions, and all he does is cook for goodness sake.  As I left I hoped Mr Nice wouldn't be too cheesed off about the tap, but at least I did try to tell him.  I hoped the position would go to someone else.  For once in my life my hope was granted.  So we will see how long it is before the ad is back in the paper.  The thing is though, you never never know, if you never never go.       More from the wonderful world of ME next time.  See Ya.

SUNDAY SCHOOL MEMORIES

One day a man came to our house and told mum he was from a church and he was wondering if some  of us kids would like to go to his Sunday School. This man became a huge part of our lives, right up until his death. When I was little he seemed to be old, but looking back he was probably only 40 or so. 
Mum and dad must have thought it was a good idea, cos my brothers  started going. I didn't go there until later.
For some reason we went to a different church.  We went to the Gospel Hall Church. That was quite fun.  In those days we had to dress up.  You know the whole kit and kaboodle.  From head to toe.  I was always dressed beautifully.  Mum used to sew all my dresses, and they were gorgeous.  I remember one though that she bought.  It was lovely but I must say, my favourite ones were the ones she made.  One I loved was pale pink nylony material, with sort of embossed white roses.  It had a lace collar, puffy sleeves, a full skirt and a beautiful belt that mum tied behind my back.  When tied properly the bow sat perfectly and the rest hung down and looked very girly.  The dress mum  bought was a bluey mauvey color and it was velvet.  Very pretty. It also has a lacey collar and tie belt.  It was pretty.  We wore gloves and they were all lacey and very dressy.  Funny, now you only see little girls wearing gloves when they are being flower girls.  Then of course there was the hat.  Our hats were white or cream with a turned up  brim.  Around the brim was a silk ribbon.  It was sewn around to the back and tied in a bow, but the long trailing bits would hang down our backs. We called these ribbons "hanging downs" quite aptly.  We'd flit our heads round fast back and forth to make the ribbons dance. There was a thin band of elastic which went under our chin to keep our hat on our head.  We had special shoes too.  They were our Sunday best.  Patent leather. All shiney and made a clippy sound when we walked. I remember one of my sisters used to paint her shoes garish colours, like lime and orange.  Apart from that though, we always dressed up and looked like princesses.                                                                Anyway, Sunday School.  We would get all dressed up and a lady would come in her huge car and pick us up and drive us to Sunday School.  Everyone called her Auntie, so we did too.  She was a nice lady from what I remember.  Two of my older sisters made friends with two girls but my sister Janet and myself stayed together at first, until we got brave.  You must understand, where we lived neighbours were few and far between, so we were shy as they come.  Maree made friends with a girl who also had a sister my age and eventually we became friends. (she was the girl who gave me my ginger cat, and who my biggest sister tried to chase home when she came to my house after school one day) and Janet made friends with another girl, so the four of us stuck close together.  When we got to Sunday School we sang songs and then we were put into different groups with a teacher.  We each had a pamphlet we coloured in and had a lesson about the bible.  When class was finished we were given a little memo book and a little ticket.  The ticket had a verse from the bible on it with a pretty picture.  We took the book home and learnt the verse on the ticket and recited it to our teacher the next week.  After Sunday School the grown ups went to church and us kids stayed in this huge room playing.  When church was over there was afternoon tea and then "auntie" would take us home.  I loved going to Sunday School, cos there was never any bullies or anything, it was just fun, and I loved dressing up.      
I havn't finished this yet but it's getting long so i'll finish it later.  Bye for now.  Signing off. Roger that.