Some lovely stories on here, and some sad ones. I feel for those who were bullied at school, not because I was, but because our older daughter was, very subtly. It was heartbreaking, and took years to work out who was responsible.
Despite my younger sister telling me via email recently (we haven't communicated in years) that she remembers Mum hitting us with a cane, I have no memory of that at all, and I remember a very happy childhood. I've realised over the years that, after babyhood, Mum wasn't particularly affectionate, but I never felt I wasn't loved. I know now that Mum had a very unhappy late childhood/teens with her step-father, so I guess it wasn't all that surprising that she didn't find it easy to show her love. She's made up for it in the last couple of years since she came to live near us, though.
I can remember frost on the windows, but can't remember being cold. I do remember the paraffin stove, though, and how the flame would flare if there was a draught. It took me many years to get over the fear of fire, especially as Mum told me I was being 'silly'. I hated being made to drink lukewarm, slightly sour milk at school in the summer. 40+ years later, the smell of milk over a day old still makes me heave. Also being made to eat stew for school dinners. Mum knew I hated it, as did Dad, so she always cooked something else for us but, at school, I was expected to eat it. To this day, I can't eat any food that's been 'cooked to death', and that includes most soups.
