Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 971 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Monday came and we got back to normal–I know it’s a relative term, but as far as normal goes, we went back to it. This meant five out of six children back in school and Julie and I slaving over a large farmhouse.

Her ironing skills had improved significantly, and I was trying to teach her some basic cooking. I decided that it was probably better for her to poison Stella and me, than to kill the whole family, so she made lunches from now on. This meant planning the menu, purchasing the items and then cooking it.

She had to check the fridge or store cupboard every few days to make sure she had everything that was necessary and did she complain. “This is like, so unfair, I don’t see you checking your cupboard every time you make dinner.”

“I know what’s in there.”

“How come you do and I don’t?”

“I’ve been doing it longer than you.”

“Did your mother make you do this?”

“Not quite, but then she didn’t plan on raising a daughter, she was teaching a son to be independent–I’m teaching you to be both independent and skilled enough to run a house if you need to.”

“Maybe I’ll be a lesbian and get my partner to do it all.”

“That sounds like a boy talking.” It was a little sharp of me, but if she wants to be a girl, she has to take her medicine like one. I may be somewhat stereotyped, but most men leave the bulk of housework to their female partners.

“Oh,” she blushed, “I suppose it did.”

“That’s fine, if you want to be a boy again–it’s okay with me and I’m sure the others would adapt after a few weeks.”

“Be a boy again? Oh, Mummy, no I don’t want that.”

“Well in which case I shall treat you like a girl.”

“Yes please.”

“So plan your menu, check your cupboards and get on with it.”

“Yes, Mummy,” she sighed.

There are loads of girls who can barely make tea, let alone make a dinner or bake a cake. Housework is derided these days–everyone has to be too important to do it, get in some poor thing from down the road to do it for you. So what happens if you can’t work the vacuum cleaner or the washing machine, or your favourite blouse or bra needs washing and drying? Or horror upon horror, a button comes off–if you don’t know where the mending kit is or can’t thread a needle–you are stuck.

So many people can’t be bothered, so they donate to Oxfam rather than repair things–no wonder the world is in such a mess. We’d rather throw something worth tens or hundreds of pounds away, than sit down for half an hour and mend it.

After an early lunch of omelettes and salad, which was pretty good, we did an hour’s sewing. I’m teaching Julie to make dolls clothes, so that will involve using or even making patterns, cutting out, tacking and sewing and knitting or crocheting. I think she’d rather push the vacuum cleaner round, it takes less concentration. It’s certainly easier to teach students biology than Julie sewing.

At two, I stood up and popped on some lipstick and brushed my hair. “Have you got your list?”

“Um–I haven’t had time to do it, Mummy.”

“Why not–I know what I need to replace or top up for the dinners and breakfasts.”

“You said you’d had more practice.”

“And you, young lady, have two minutes before I go to the supermarket, I’d hurry if I were you.”

“Why can’t we have sandwiches for lunch?” she grumbled in the car as I drove to the shops.

“We can, but you’ll need to have lots of variations in bread and fillings.”

“Why not a pack of ham and a sliced loaf?”

“Fine, but you can eat it all yourself.”

“It would be cheaper.”

“Yes, I did it for three years at university–at the end of the month, I was often living on toast, with the occasional tin of beans.”

“Well you turned out alright.”

“So do you want to learn to live very frugally or develop housekeeping skills?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you want to live like a student, that can be arranged, I’ll give you a couple of pounds a day to live on and you can do all your cooking, and I’ll look after the rest.”

“But Daddy gives me enough to mean that isn’t necessary.”

“I can arrange for him to stop that, I’ll call him when we get to the shop.”

“No, please don’t, Mummy. I need the money for clothes and things.”

“If you’re living frugally, you can’t afford new stuff, you have to do charity shops or make changes to old stuff.”

“No thanks.”

“It’s what happens in wartime, when supplies are short. We’ve become too dependent upon waste, far too fickle for novelty and change.”

“Well, you’re always buying clothes.”

“Not as many as you, girl,” I knew my wardrobe was much bigger than hers, I’d been collecting it for longer and some of it was still Stella cast-offs.

“I think it’s unfair, the boys aren’t bullied as much as me.”

“The boys are still in school, but they do chores when they’re home and they get a bit of training too. I want them to be able to cope with looking after themselves if they go away from home, such as college or university.”

“But they could end up marrying a girl or living with one who does it all differently.”

“So, that’s for them to sort out.”

“What if I live with a boy who likes to do housework?”

“Then you give thanks and grab him quickly, but you may well find there’s a reason why he likes housework.”

“Like what?”

“Think about it–here we are, come on we’ll have to get a move on or we’ll be late collecting the three mouseketeers.”

We grabbed a trolley and entered the emporium–the temple of consumerism. “Where’s your list, Mummy?”

“In my head–I know what we’re eating, and what I need to get. Where’s yours?”

“Um–in the kitchen,” she looked very embarrassed.

“Oh well, let’s see how much you can remember.” It was actually in my pocket, she’d forgotten it and I picked it up as we left. I’d give it to her afterwards, but I wanted her to deal with a bit of pressure. Prioritising, time management and so on are useful in everything. Later on, when she gets better at it, I’ll give her a budget to manage as well. By that time she’ll be able to look after a house or even The House, perhaps as Chancellor of the Exchequer.

We were concentrating on her shopping, I’d finished mine and I’d given her the list she’d forgotten and were debating over the pros and cons of plain flour over corn flour for sauce making, when I saw her father turn into our aisle. It was not what I would have chosen to happen, especially as we needed to collect the girls. I pretended not to notice him but he saw us and headed straight for us.