B. Johnson: House Mother Normal

just forgave him as he seemed to want me to, and

it did relieve his mind, you could see that, he

just sank back, and very quickly fell asleep.

He kept a spit-bowl

by his bed, that was the worst part, emptying that,

the yellowy green stuff and the blood, he couldn’t

get out to the carsey, either, but somehow

emptying his spit-bowl was worse, like throwing

away bits that were him.

I tell them

my troubles, they tell me theirs.

We had a good feed at a chip place, before he

went off to his football. I went round the

shops, all excited inside all the afternoon.

Perhaps it was expecting what — Laugh? Ha ha

ha, ho ho ho .

I wish I’d been kind to old people then, now I

know how it is. It’s always the same, you can

never know until you actually are. And then

it’s too late. You realise which are the important

things only when it’s too late, that’s the

trouble.

However much he made it was

always too little, I always had to watch every

penny so carefully. In the butchers I had to take

what he’d give me cheap, and his dirt and insolence.

No one has ever treated me like a queen.

You’d think every girl would be treated like a queen

by someone at some time in her life, wouldn’t you?

But not me. Perhaps I never deserved it, perhaps

I never treated any man like a king.

Now what’s she rucking Ivy for?

Oh, she’s going through that again,

is she? She don’t half fancy herself! Well, I

don’t, and it’s filthy so I shan’t watch though

she may think I am. My idea of a holiday

was never the sea, anyway. On those pub outings

they never looked at the sea in any case, all

they were interested in looking at was the insides

of the pubs along the front at Southend, one after

the other. They went into the first next to the

coach park and so it went on, all along the front.

They’d give the stakeholder half a quid each

and he’d buy the drinks as long as the money lasted.

You could get big fat

oysters on one stall, only time I ever enjoyed them

was down there. My dad would never eat shellfish

but once a year down at Southend, said they were

never fresh anywhere else. Cockles I’d have, too,

and those little brown English shrimps, very tasty,

but whelks I never could stand, far too gristly

and tough. The Kursaal bored me, but

all the men used to love it when the pubs were

shut — What a disgusting spectacle! Why

does she do it?

Disgusting!

Ugh! Never did like it, had to

pretend, all my life pretended to like it.

Listen to her!

No, doesn’t matter

Charlie Edwardsage 78 marital status separated sight 50 % hearing 80 % touch 80 % taste 95 % smell 30 % movement 85 % CQ count 10 pathology contractures; bronchitis; incipient leather bottle stomach; hypertension; among others.

I have always liked a lamb chop. Even in the last

days I managed to have a lamb chop once a week. Welsh

lamb I found the best, though New Zealand is a close second

in my opinion. Even Betty knew that to please me she

had only to give me a lamb chop. Here the lamb chops

are mutton, I am certain. They are too big for any

lamb. Where does a lamb end and a sheep begin?

I used to see them in the

fields. I know these are mutton. Sometimes they are

tough. They are not always tough, though. They are

always stronger in taste than lamb. Lamb has a delicate

flavour. The best lamb, that is, of course. Mutton

tastes — again, every mealtime, that Mrs Ridge.

Strong mutton is not

without its own special attraction, of course. Perhaps

if I had not tasted lamb first I would have come to like mutton

more. One day she will go too far and someone will

report her to the authorities. Whoever the authorities

are.

Yes, perhaps I would now like mutton if I had tasted it

before lamb. It is an accident.

Perhaps. I can

understand that they have mutton here rather than lamb.

It is for cheapness.

I am fortunate to be here. And mutton keeps me

going as well as ever lamb would. That is

their point of view, I am sure. Mutton has

enough of the taste of lamb to make me remember.

I do not miss lamb now.

I do not miss anything now. There is

no point.

It is hard. Harder where there’s none,

as my old Mum used to say.

Harder where there’s none.

I still enjoy my food. I am lucky in that.

Some of these poor old souls here

do not even have that pleasure.

And it is a pleasure to me.

I am lucky to be here.

Some would revolt at some of the things that woman

says. I do myself. But I keep my feelings

to myself. It would not do to be seen to

revolt, I am in some ways revolting in myself.

Sometimes I have to be changed, like a baby.

Is that revolting? I finish my food cleanly,

a clean plate. I place my knife and my

fork as I was taught to do as a child. It is

easy for Sarah to pick them up with one movement.

I am a tidy man. I have been called fastidious

by some. Betty had another word for it,

what was it? She hated my tidiness,

anyway. As one gets older it becomes more and more

difficult to control the ordin…. Now there’ll

be a fuss. Just over dropping a plate.

I noticed it first with spitting, for sometimes

I would spit when speaking. And not always when

I spoke with some vehemence, either. Sometimes

I would spit without any warning. Even without

there seeming to be any reason for it, too. I found

it disturbing, but it was as nothing compared with

what there was to come I found myself

not wanting to… not minding about spitting

when I spoke. Is that

worse? Sometimes I cannot worry about things

like that. Yet there is always a worse.

I have only to look at some of these poor old things

here to know that. I am not as bad

as some. I am lucky in that. I am always

more than ready to count my blessings.

Life has taught me at least that. I can at

least say that I was not a slow learner as regards life’s

lessons. As though anyone should

ask — the Song. She wants us to sing, as usual. Well,

singing is something I have always enjoyed. The music

teacher asked me to sing in his choir, outside school. It

was a church choir, in Haggerston. Not because of your

voice, he said, but because of your ear. You have perfect

pitch. It was something unusual about me others did not

have.

The joys of life continue strong

Throughout old age, however long:

If only we can cheerful stay

And brightly welcome every day .

Not what we’ve been, not what we’ll be ,

What matters most is that we’re free :

The joys of life continue strong

Throughout old age, however long .

The most important thing to do

Is stay alive and see it through:

No matter if the future’s dim ,

Just keep straight on and trust in Him:

For He knows best, and brings good cheer ,

Oh, lucky us, that we are here!

The most important thing to do

Is stay alive and see it through!

There was word amongst the boys that

the music teacher was bent. I never saw it myself.