End Of An Era.

It has been many years now since my god-mother died. She was one of a kind. When you met her, you know you had been Tangoed! I have never met anyone like her. I knew her Mum and Sister, very well. I grew up in two different worlds, my every day world, and each year for two weeks, I would spend with her in the Summer. It was like I had two Mothers, a relaxed one and a strict one.

In those two weeks I learnt etiquette and how the other half lived. I ate fish with a silver fish knife, I drunk soup with a silver soup spoon, I used from a cut glass, heavy small ‘dish’ that had salt in, with that I used a very tiny spoon to take salt to sprinkle onto my food. I had a napkin that was linen and rolled up in a silver napkin holder. My brown bread was hand sliced and when toasted, they were put in the silver toast rack. I drank from a tiny China cup with a saucer. In the evening, we went in the drawing room, where the old grand father clock was. In the drawing room, was the telly where only the BBC or BBC 2 was watched! The piano and violin was in there and the small trolley for tea and a slice of cake, only loose tea was ever used. Oh, and the glass cabinet for special things like small pictures in silver frames, China, other special things.

On the large stairs, on the wall was a picture of Pendle Hill and an old antique Victorian long handle bed warmer. In the umbrella stand, were not just umbrellas, but old walking sticks with silver handles, next to the freestanding coat stand.

I went to, Conistone Pie, Skipton, Scargill House about 10 times, I ate Kendal Mint cake, I ate Pontefract cake. I often ate Eccles cakes. For sugar, I had it in cubes only, brown for coffee and white for tea! I used a silver sugar tongs, for this.

I was shown, and I could not believe my eyes, in the shop window, sugared ants! Mercy!

On Sundays I went to Evensong. I never wanted to go, I would rather stay home, but as a child I had no choice I had to go, but as a teenager, I was allowed to sometimes stay home. I liked to go in the mornings. They had the eucharist, in the morning, when I was older, but as a child I was not allowed, the Priest would put his hand on my head instead. All prayers were said from a book. A different prayer for different times of the year.

My god-mother lived in a beautiful place St Anne’s on sea. There was one person she reminded me of her.

Patricia Routledge, my Mum loved her. We watch her often. RIP x