My grandmother (father’s mother) had an eye for a ‘bargain’. She would buy bags full of clothes and donate them to my mother for us three to wear.
She’d buy things in bulk and snap up bargains – nothing wrong with that, of course, except, she’d buy things that were cheap because she thought my mother ‘needed’ them too.
Actually, it almost seems like she scoured the village for cast-offs – as long as they were clean and roughly the right size, she’d snap them all up. For us, her three eldest grandchildren. When my cousin (father’s sister’s kid) arrived and started growing, do you think she had to wear horrible, out of date, second-hand clothes? NOT A BIT OF IT!
My aunt wouldn’t give second-hand anything house-room!
I suppose it was because my grandmother didn’t believe my mother was ‘up to scratch’ in any department. If we didn’t wear the clothes my grandmother sent, or if she saw us wearing something she’d not bought, she would go into guilt-trip mode.
“Aren’t the clothes I bought for the kids good enough? Don’t worry, I’ll take them back. I’ll not buy any more…” Oh woe is me! I was only trying to be a benefactor because you have so little…
Good Grief!
If there was anything in a bundle that was green and my size, that was it.
She once bought some utterly HORRIBLE green houndstooth-pattern trousers. I can’t remember if they were nylon or the horrible scratchy fabric – either way, I LOATHED them!
So that’s exactly what I had to wear when we went down to their house on a Sunday. Every Sunday - of COURSE!
If my aunts took me out to buy clothes (for Christmas etc), they would make me wear something horrible – and usually green.
As soon as the shopping trip was over, I’d strip off the clothes and wander ‘round in my underwear rather than wear the scratchy, horrible clothes.
After stripping off those green houndstooth trousers, one of my aunts laughed at me.
“You didn’t want to just try on those clothes when we were out. You had to go into the changing room, even though those people will never see you again and these people that you’re parading around in front of, you’ll see every week!” (Yes, they had tried to make me try on the clothes in the middle of a crowded, public place – who does that to a teen?)
Seriously? Who wants to get undressed and dressed in full view of a lot of strangers?
Grandmother, I think you’re the reason I don’t like the colour green. No, scratch that, you’re definitely the reason I don’t like the colour green.
My favourite colour is, and has always been, red. I like red – I just do.
I was never allowed to wear anything red because my grandmother said so.
Bloody hell she was a bully! My mother couldn’t rock the boat because of how much she helped out with money, and I’m not even sure she’d have said anything to her even if she wasn’t shackled by the threat of, “You’ll get nothing more from me!”
Pixabay Image
One day I found a pair of red trousers in a bag of donated clothes and I wore those trousers long after they were worn out. They were too big for me, but I didn’t care, they were RED!
I pulled them out of the middle of the bag. They were bell-bottoms, elasticated waist, thick jersey fabric (think t-shirt material, but a lot thicker) and I loved them on sight.
I wore those trousers everywhere, mostly out playing on the street.
At the end of the street, there’s a ‘gitty’ (pronounce the ‘g’ like ‘germ’). A ‘gitty is a little footpath through – a shortcut that has been adopted by the authorities (in this case).
Right in the middle of that gap, there was a concrete pole. We used to leap-frog that pole and I practiced until I could do it like the bigger kids (lads mainly… the girls didn’t do that kind of thing, and neither should I)…
The pole was a square concrete thing, with a chunk missing from an accident one of my brother’s friend’s had. He slammed into the pole when he lost control of his bike (pushbike, not motorbike) and hit his head on the concrete. It must have had a fault in it because the missing chunk was around five inches long.
I believe it was coming on to winter because it was dark and yet we were all still out, playing.
Some of the bigger lads were there, for a change, and they were all leap-frogging the pole.
The crowd was bigger than usual, swelled by the draw of the bigger lads, I suppose. Girls that didn’t usually come and play the rough-and-tumble games with us younger kids were there.
I couldn’t wait to show them all what I could do now!
I took a run-up and hopped over the pole using my hands placed on top for leverage.
Perfect!
Everyone that wanted to took turns and then it was my turn again.
The lovely, warm red trousers were a little too big for me, remember, and I had to keep pulling them up.
Second time for the leap-frog and – WONDERFUL! I was keeping up with the experts.
Third time… run up, place my hands on top of the pole, one on top of the other, leap forward to clear the top of the pole, bringing my hands forward in front of me once my momentum had pushed me far enough…
And… the crotch of those trousers caught on the pole.
My momentum was abruptly stopped and I swung forward and down. I only-just managed to stop myself face-planting against the concrete pole by sheer instinct.
And then laughter! Not mine…
Looking back, it really must have been hilarious. I was hanging upside down from my trousers, unable to get up because I refused to slip out of the offending garment in order to free myself from the pole.
One of the big lads came close to jeer at me and I reached out a hand, grabbed the leg of his jeans and pulled myself upright, almost de-bagging him in the process!
Don’t you just wish some of your memories weren’t quite so vivid?
Pole – 1
Tomboy -0
I remember my grandmother used to wear a Indian traditional clothes called "saree" all the time! Even at bedtime! I used to ask her if her waistline doesn’t hurt with the petticoat tied so tightly all the time. She said that she feels nothing of the sort and that in any other attire, she’d feel ‘extremely uncomfortable’.
There were even communities where really young girls wore sarees. Like I said, more than just an attire, it became a part of your persona. Women wore sarees of different varieties and in different styles based on several factors like region, community, etc.
Thanks to Indian cinema’s romanticizing of the saree over the years by associating it with sensuality, femininity, and poise, the usage of the garment has not been wiped out completely by the so-called ‘new generation’. Young people nowadays usually do opt to wear a saree if they intend to ‘impress’ someone ;-) And in all probability, it will survive for time immemorial.
Thanks @micheele.gent sharing with us your cute childhood stories with us. These stories reminds my childhood too and my grandma ❤!
I'm pleased they do!
Thanks for sharing your story of the Saree and your Grandmother <3
y grandmother loved dark, boring colours, mainly black or brown. I hate brown. She gave me a pair of these awful brown tweed pants. I think they were wool. Itchy as heck. Had to wear them every Sunday too, until the dog ran away wth them...lol
'The dog ran away with them...' along with your homework? ;)
That's my story and I'm sticking to it! (It also helped that the pants were stuffed with sausage) lol
Perfect!
very good information,
and I really like it
Thank you :)
a very good story for me to ponder ,,,
and with this story I can remember my memories with my grandmother
:) I seem to be prompting a few memories with my stories... I think this is a 'win-win' for us all :)
yes, i really want to be like you,
becoming a famous writer,
and i will start it in steemit,
I will write some beautiful poems here,
I hope you support me,, @michelle.gent
I will start the race here,
and I know you will be my teacher,
and I will learn from some of your famous writings..he..he
I like you. @michelle.gent
The beginning of a journey to becoming a famous writer starts with becoming a writer.
Practise every day, even if it's a few words... keep everything you write - something will come in useful even if you don't think so at first.
Good Luck!
thank you for your support,
you are a good person,
and will be a useful person for me
briefly, I am again preparing a poem for you,
and maybe you like it ..... @michelle.gent
sorry, I just finished making it for you,
hope you like it
my grandmother always wore sarong cloth, wherever in go in always use sarong cloth even when to party even she use sarong cloth sarong cloth is indeed a traditional cloth in my country, but in today's very rarely used, only old people still use the cloth.
my grandmother keeps reminding me not to forget my country's traditional customs. because you sharing your story makes me remember my grandmother's words, thanks @michelle.gent
You're most welcome. Thank you for sharing your grandmother's words :)