LYONS MAID

The lollies were delectable. "Lyons Maid" brand and orange favour
were always in short supply at Betty's shop. My brother and I devoured
them and even mastered the well-nigh impossible act of removing the
paper wrapper without ripping it and having it adhere to the overfrozen
lolly. (Betty's fridge always needed defrosting.)

One day, my grandmother, who lived with us, chanced upon one and became
completely "hooked," much to my parents' dismay. They did their best to
discourage her un-granny-like behaviour, but to no avail. Granny went
through a six-month addiction, during which she would eat as many (we
fetched them) as five lollies a day, on school holidays and weekends
and two a day, on regular school days (slipping money to us behind our
parents' backs and eating them, also, behind our parents' backs).

One evening, while fetching a lolly, I hung aimlessly around Betty's
shop until things had quieted down and I asked her advice about
birthday gift ideas for the following morning. "Why not a slip and
pantie set? I have them here, they just come in. Nylon? Silk? Pink? I
think I can guess your mother's size...." I blushed profusely, forked
out our money, all in half crowns, and fled, in relief. The slip and
panties were the culmination of long years of uninspired, birthday
gifts to my mother: Oven gloves, dishtowels or slippers.

Matching slip and panties was our staple birthday gift for the next
four years, until my mother casually hinted that she was, by then,
well-stocked up in underwear.