Was there a toy or thing you always wanted as a child, during the holidays or on your birthday, but never received? Tell us about it.
I saw the crows arrive on the branches of the tree in the early evening from the kitchen as we were about to start our meal. Yes, they were out of reach, but with a super Nikon camera, nothing is out of reach. I fetched my camera from the living room table, opened the window full length in the kitchen to take my prize winning photo entitled “Evening crows in the trees”.
“No, not now we want to eat.”
“But the crows do not wait.”
“All the cold air in entering the kitchen, come and eat.”
No appreciation for photographic talents.
Everything seems to be out of my reach these days, Now that I can actually think about buying it or not, it is no longer such fun I suppose. When I was a kid things were out of reach because we never seemed to have the money to buy them. On the other hand, my idea of a realism was a little bit straining on mum’s nerves.
I was such a sweet little girl, and was convinced I never did anything wrong. One day my dad was hammering a new sole on a pair of shoes. Every time new shoes were bought, he glued on an extra rubber sole to make them last longer - as I said we never seemed to have money, and so we took such precautions. Anyhow, to continue, dad was thumping with the hammer on the sole to ensure that it stuck and I was watching the hammer pounding up and down. For some strange reason a thought entered my head. Yes, I put my finger under the hammer as it was descending. I screamed and cried and mum asked a fully innocent dad what he was thinking of. My finger survived and I never did it again. I can still remember today when I did it and still do not really know why. Actually my thought was probably “I wonder what it feels like to put my finger under the hammer”. I was always a curious child.
There was another occasion, but this time I suppose mum was right, although to this day I know I was just expressing a simple need. Back to a daily shopping trip “down the road”. Mum was usually interested in things like potatoes, meat, vegetables etc. which I found very boring. Eventually, probably to keep me quiet, we passed the window of the bakers. There were all sorts of things, bread, sandwiches and little cakes. How could mum resist my pleading eyes and so I was allowed to choose one of those cakes. I had my eye for some time on the prize cake in the window, I remember it so well to this day. It was more a creation than just a cake. It was quite big, big enough to feed a chldren’s tea party. It was basically covered with white icing and on the top it had various different coloured roses, a sculpture in sugar.
“I want that one”
“No you can’t have it.”
“I want that one” accompanied with a foot stamp.
“No, have one of the other cakes.”
I was adamant, if someone tells you to choose a cake, you choose it and expect to get it. Mum refused to buy this cake, or any other cake eventually and so the tears welled up in my eyes and everyone began to wonder what was wrong with this screaming hysterical little girl. When they eventually discovered that I was not the subject of violence I was ignored with shaking heads from the spectators. Eventually mum and I arrived home, me still screaming and mum dragging me along by the hand. We had to ascend a staircase to arrive home on the second floor and mum’s words were “and I hit her on every step she took”, which she did. It was not really cruelty, but I still wanted my cake.
Mum was not an expert in child psychology, but I remember her telling my aunt, dad, grandfather and all other acquaintances about my show in the cake shop and on the street afterwards. And I still have not forgotten this episode today. I wonder how Sigmund Freud would have judged this tantrum.