My mother had few bad habits, but one of her pleasures was to visit the local saleroom
Here she would buy all sorts of objects large and small, there didn’t seem to be any logic in her choice but we were always assured when the horse drawn wagon arrived outside the house that this latest load of acquisitions was much better and in a much better condition than the last lot
Her treasures were always delivered by horse drawn wagon, driven by a man called Jack who was almost as big as his horses, two massive shire horses, and needed to be so for the large wagon they used to pull. Piled high with mother’s latest offerings it would stop outside the house, the horses stamping their huge iron shod hooves ,striking sparks from the roadway until Jack fitted feed bags, into which the horses would plunge huge noses , snorting and puffing the chaff out of the top of the bag. Jack would busy himself turning on the brakes and placing the steel wedges under the wheels, all the time shouting “Whoa Back Edgar”, and Steady Lad”, he would then call for a cup of tea and we boys would unload the wagon.
On one of these occasions she bought a piano, a massive upright piano in a beautiful Walnut case.
Our house was on a hill, so the back door was one floor lower than the front door and it was decided that this was the door that the piano would be taken into and would reign in splendor in the lower dining room; this larger room was the family room where we used to live throughout the day.
It was a dining room, living room, kitchen, and bakery; in fact every thing needing space was done here. It had an air of controlled confusion about it, not untidy but certainly “lived in”. A huge glass shade supposed to represent a flower of some specie hung from the light fitting in the centre of the ceiling and did nothing to disguise the electric light bulb attempting to shine through it...
A massive space filled with equally massive furniture. A huge mahogany bow fronted cupboard stood in one corner on which sat two parrot cages.
In one lived an Amazon green parrot named Cocker who spoke and thought as a human being. Indeed his tutor being the trawler band on the radio next to his cage his language was rich and to the point. Fishing disasters of all types were colorfully described by him in the exact words he heard them, unfortunately he would include all the words exactly as the poor frustrated fishermen thought fit to use in his conversation with his mentors and fellow fishermen.
After a short while Cocker could imitate individual local fishermen so well if they visited my dad and Cocker picked up their tone he would start talking to them in their voice.
On one occasion a fishermen and his wife visited our house to order some nets mending. He was well known for his colorful language while at sea, but Cocker decided to repeat some of it, imitating him unmistakably.
Mother was stricken with alarm, but we lads just fell about laughing, even my dad couldn’t disguise a smile. The fisherman’s wife must have got used to the swear words, she just sat and listened while the fisherman in question “wondered who the poor bird could have been listening to”
Cocker got put in the yard on his cage hook, still swearing and struggling with the trawl net in question, until he saw next doors cat and started meowing to it.
In the other cage lurked a smaller parakeet whose one wish was to bite all who ventured near him. His name was Suky
Father always ready to see the nicer side of everyone decided to show us that Suky merely required kindness to respond to and put his hand into Suky’s cage. Suky sat on his wrist smiling at us all while father berated us for having no faith in the little bird’s intentions. Unfortunately for father Suky decided at this moment that time was up and nearly bit dads thumb end off.
Cocker learned some new words!
Two big sofa’s and a couple of arm chairs hugged the walls and in one corner a huge welsh dresser showed off a willow pattern dinner service and various nik nacs mother picked up at the saleroom. In the lower portion of this dresser were two drawers filled with cutlery, no two pieces being in any way like another, all the forks were different as were all the knives and spoons, not here would you find the delicate boxed cutlery of stamped and proven pedigree.
Some of the forks had bent prongs depending on what purpose they had been used for, opening paint, puncturing canned milk tins or toasting bread with, this usually could be spotted by the slightly blued ends of the prongs, rather like a good gun barrel and in no way detrimental to its designed purpose.
The large table of gigantic proportions and built of heavy timbers was used for all jobs and trades, mother would bake, mix and rise her bread on its freshly scrubbed surface every morning.
Later in the day it may be used to make crab pots on. Someone making the bottoms, another bending the bows of hazel sticks round the frame my dad invented. Another of us nailing them in place and braiding the netting. It all took place on and around this table, though not I hasten to add at the same time. If you were deemed a good “spout braider” that became your part of the
Crabpot.
Spouts are the cone shaped openings into the trap that the crab uses to get into the pot and eat the bait. If the spout is made right it allows big crabs in but makes it difficult for them to get back out. Everyone makes different shaped spouts like no two ladies knit the same socks. If your spout is deemed to be a good fisher you have a job for life.
This room, subterranean at one end and opening into large windows looking on to the garden at the other, had a large open fire on which Mother would burn massive logs, mother never bothered to saw these logs, they were put on the fire the same size that they were when cut down, one end was pushed into the fire and the other end rested on a three legged stool, occasionally the fire burned along the logs and attempted to escape from the fireplace however the small pan of water kept for that purpose would be poured over the log taking the fire back, spitting and steaming, where it belonged.
It became a habit to step over the logs without even noticing them, and sometimes stepping over them when in fact no logs existed, much to the confusion of the uninformed visitor, who wondered lf we had developed some strange affliction of the legs, or even stranger vision.
The massive farm table was pushed to one side, dressing tables and cupboards were shuffled around until the piano fitted in the open space under the stairs, and there it remained while we unloaded the rest of the wagon pottery flying ducks, brass fire dogs and a whole host of bits and pieces, mother’s latest treasures. Of course room had to be made in the house for these new treasures, so the wagon was loaded up again with the stuff she had bought last week, apparently was not now viewed with the same favor as it was a week ago.
If we could escape mothers returned from the sale room by being needed elsewhere we would regard this as fortunate indeed, however mother was aware of our attempts to avoid assisting and would leave instructions that we must be around the house at the usual time to meet the wagon, woe betide anyone who was seen to have deliberately avoided his duties
Often the neighbors would see something she had bought which they liked and inevitably left with it
Mother’s big heart would not allow her to keep something a “poor neighbour” liked. More often than not she would take less than she paid for it. She forgot the time spent sitting in the sale room most of the morning. For the transport and the sale room’s commission, often she made a loss on the purchase.
A few days after the piano was positioned into the lower room mother decided that it would have to go into the best lounge and that it would be possible to take it up the narrow flight of stairs between the two rooms, this staircase had to turn 90° to the left half way up. We couldn’t see any way that this piano would go up the stairs but mother assured us that it would, she would push at the bottom and we would pull at the top, two boys at the top and mother at the bottom
The piano was bullied into the staircase where it was decided that the banister rail would have to come off, screwdrivers were produced and the banister duly removed, along with a large amount of the plaster.
Mother was now filled with a new optimism and announced that the piano would now go up easily and so it did until we reached the turn, where it became jammed across the corner, and mother continues to push with all her strength instructing us to pull harder, apparently, we were not trying and would suffer dire consequences if we did not perform better.
After a while we boys retreated to the top of the stairs while mother continue to push ,unable to see around the piano she was unaware that we had deserted the cause and were sitting in the stairs huffing and puffing but actually doing very little as we had decided that this piano would not come up the stairs
.We were sitting at the top of the stairs making all the right noises and shouting suggestions down to mother, who was “really getting the hump” now.
“WE could lighten it if we saw off these legs”
“I’ll saw off your legs if you touch it with a saw”
“If we cut off this sticky out bit with these funny key things on it that’s digging into the plaster on the wall, the legs will come off with it, we could just cut through this narrow bit”
“Shall I get the saw Mother?” My younger brother getting in on the act!
“I’ll saw you’re sticky out bits off if you bring a saw even near it”
“I avent got any sticky out bits!” My younger brother is six years old.
This statement reduces us all to laughter, except mother who still has the weight of the piano, and informs us we may collectively never have “sticky out bits” again if “we don’t shape up and shift this piano off her foot and up the stairs”
“Do you know it’s full of iron wires inside mam?” maybe they will just lift out?”
My brother starts plonking the wires through the open top of the piano.
“Why don’t we leave it ere for a day or two, while we ave a think about it mam?”
Mother by now is growling,she is sliding into her grizzly bear mode and this is not good, it is a sign that she is thinking of giving this idea up and mother does not like to give in. Someone is going to pay dearly for it.
I suppose the weight of the heavy unshiftable piano on her foot is not helping and she is a very big woman in a very narrow stairway with narrow treads to stand on
My older brother, sitting on the landing, is now bent on winding her up a bit, a dangerous practise
“OY! Billy Goat Gruff, what’s matter then?”
The piano rears up as if possessed, accompanied by the loud roar of a maddened beast, MOTHER! Has “blown a gasket””then she went quiet, She resting says my brother ,for another assault on it.
Oh; we were very cocky thinking mother was at the other end of the piano but unknown to us she had decided to come around the hill and walked in the front door catching us sitting at the top of the stairs doing very little.
Retribution swiftly followed, we been trapped and unable to escape, mother had “H.M.S. Hood! had cleared for action” and we were collectively “going to get it now”.
Fortunately for some of us there were too many targets for her to concentrate on and most escaped through the front door with just the odd clout.
Big Jack stupidly tried to climb over the piano but found the drop at the other side too far and caught spread eagled over the piano was too good a target to refuse so he couldn’t sit down for a day or two afterwards.
Two of us escaped through the neighbor’s house, a recognized right of way in emergencies.
“ Hiya Charlie we’re not stopping”.
“EY up lads is she after you then?” said Charlie
“Come out of way Mavis let em through love, Violet Emma’s on warpath”!
“Make a cuppa tea she’ll be ere in a second or two”.
more of this piana to follow
pete skipper
