B. Johnson - House Mother Normal

fat slummy greasy Ivy! Fatty Ivy chop, buy them

at the family butcher’s.

So what?

She’s giving us the benefit, again. Lovely,

have it off, let’s all see

Oh, she

threw her clothes over the dog!

Now the other

that’s it

Oh, I always enjoy this

bit, it reminds me of the old days when I was out

working…. How far now?

Oops!

They’re all off, all,

Hoorah!

Never with a dog, we went to the

Dogs’ Home to choose one but came away without one,

I couldn’t have kept it anyway

My new dress is stained with custard.

Who did that, now? It must have been that

Ivy, I know it was that Ivy! Cow!

Custard cow, taking no notice, getting her own back

because my tits are better than hers, custard cow,

cowardy custard cow. True love, blue

eyes, green, six foot if an inch, he was tall as

well with it, scrubber I was, the first, first

Listen to her!

No, doesn’t matter

Sioned Bowen age 89 marital status widow sight 50 % hearing 40 % touch 35 % taste 55 % smell 45 % movement 20 % CQ count 8 pathology contractures; diabetes mellitus; colonic diverticulitis; benign renal carcinoma; lesion of alimentary tract; paraplegia; among others.

… tasty

meat then

that house, the kitchen itself could seat

twenty of us, did at Christmas before we served them, it

was warmer than the servants’ hall, that word worries

me still, always hated to think of myself as a servant, he

didn’t, almost revelled in it, he did, knew his place and that

was a servant’s place, indeed this custard,

slop and greens, how can she, in that kitchen

there were great bowls we broke the eggs into for custard,

real custard, the arm you needed to beat that many would fell

an ox, two of us girls would take turn and turn about, some-

times my arm hurt so much that that kitchen

was so big twenty of us could the

mahogany cupboards, sets of drawers with brass handles, how

I hated brass, a waste to have brass to keep clean, but then

he would say it was good

my soul indeed,

what he was interested in was not my soul

the old sod

with his great stomach, the stomach he had on him

Why not, he said,

Because not, I told him

The stomach on him, he’d be round the

kitchen spooning out the leavings in the big oven trays,

laughing if Cook or anyone tried to stop him, dodging round

and knocking things over with his great stomach and fat

arse. I know.

There was too much room in that kitchen, Cook used to say,

even when she had to cook for sixty, there were that many

guests there on occasion, oh dear me yes

The mahogany cupboards, the whole range to

blacklead, eggs to beat, the meringues the sisters liked

too much, we used to put the yolks in scrambled eggs the

next morning, it was the best way to use them up.

Years afterwards

went into Town one week and there he was, years after,

outside the Bear, his great stomach even bigger

grinning

I felt my insides twist, I couldn’t help

myself, he had the effect on me.

In summer the sun used to beat down

on the range, it used to make it that hot

working there, double.

My name is

Sioned, I work here, you’re a pretty thing

How could I see it coming?

Clear up now, I’ll help, I can still move, you know, push

at the wheels, I’ll help, get the plates together, there,

lift — Oh no! I didn’t mean

to drop them, Miss!

I wouldn’t try to

feed the doggie, you’ve told us not to .

Yes, I deserve it.

cah, cah, cah Goats

in the paddock, there. We had goats, then, never ate it

ourselves, but the sisters did. I never liked it, I wasn’t

squeamish, no, but the sisters

No,

I won’t sing her song. I think it’s silly, so

she can do the other thing.

As though it mattered, it wasn’t my fault,

no, they can clear up on their own, a little mess

like that.

What matters most

old age long ha ah ah!

ha ha ha ha ha!

future’s dim

hymn

most important thing

through

ha ha! Nearly choked then.

I think it’s so silly, they

can all go and do the other thing, I’m tired.

.

.

Oh! Must have dozed off. Ivy’s giving out the

work, that’s good, always liked something to do,

never idle, keeps you going, idle hands make

idle work, get down to it, I can do this, fancy

goods again, it’s hard for me with my fingers but

I can do it if I set myself to it, yes, where’s

the glue, ah. Roll it round nice and smooth, hold

it tight, snip it off, glue, glue, loverly glue,

and bob’s your uncle!

Oh, I can do these. I’ll beat Ivy today, I’ll do

more than she can, if she lets me have enough

paper. Roll it round, nice and smooth, hold it

tight, snip snip and it’s off, paste the glue along

the edge, press together, another one done.

Roll it round, nice and nice, hold it tight, snip it

off, off it comes, good paper this, this time,

press the glue, too much that time, never mind eh,

it’s not as though she’s paying us, eh, snip snip

go the scissors, I can do this without thinking, easy,

got it off to a fine art, like I used to when

I was at Fuller’s, packing, we used to have

races amongst ourselves to see who could fill

most cartons first, I’d usually win, there was

only one girl who could give me a run for my

money, not that we ever bet on it, her name

was Fair

hair, rosy cheeks she had, a bit cheeky with

the men from Bakery she was, too, given half

a chance, what was her name?

One afternoon I remember it was so hot that she

undressed right there, took everything off under

her overall and sat there in just her overall,

bold as a knocker, any of the Bakery men could

have come in just then and seen her stark naked,

we were all holding our breath at the nerve of it,

there she was, right in — Yes, dear, what do you

want?

Yes, I’ll join you, if I can do the rolling again

like I did before . Yesterday, was it yesterday?

Forget, there must have been one day I was

beating Ivy and she kept on keeping the paper

from me so that I wouldn’t beat her, but Ivy

seems to think it was yesterday we worked together,

perhaps it was, her memory may be better than

mine, mine is getting shocking.

Yes, someone has to do the organising .

And it always seems to be you. If it’s not House

Mother it’s Ivy. She’s welcome.

Roll it round now, nice and easy, that’s the way,

smoothly does it. There.

Easy.

the still-room next to the carved

room would wait on my own and listen

the company lords and ladies

sometimes the carving

I did not like, it was heavy and dark, it did not

reach to the ceiling because it had belonged to

the older house, over the doors it said 1636 in a

shield, but the house itself was more modern, the

rooms were taller and bigger, the carving was

patterns and crests and shields of families they

were related to, or wanted it thought that they

were related to, the way

mirrors opposite the back lawn with

a sundial