The photo on my Mum’s dresser shows Gran and Gramps getting married. She made the dress herself from a Simplicity pattern and fabric she bought at the market. There were enough scraps that Mum was christened in a gown made with them, two years later.
I can’t sew a button. Mum could; I’d have to pay someone. Economic progress through the loss of individual skills. Presumably Great-Gran wove the fabric herself. And her Grandma grew the cotton herself.
If I’m right, where does progress go next? Perhaps my daughters won’t even have to earn their own money to buy clothes!
I hope I’m not the only one who had to write their news as a child, every Monday morning, a hundred words or so about what you did at the weekend. Maybe it’s the equivalent of Show and Tell, which we very rarely did. I sometimes wonder how much counseling primary school teachers need, and how many of the stories get passed around the staffroom – “George says his Mum took him shopping to Ann Summers!” or “Jane says her Mum was away and her Dad had Auntie Mary to stay!”
I hope you enjoy this week’s Friday Fiction story. We are hosted, as ever, by the incomparable Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and this weeks picture comes from Adam Ickes. In other news, the compilation of FF-type stories I’m in is now available in Paperback ($4.49 / £3.09) as well as digital versions (98c / 77p). If you’re in the US or UK, click on the price to be taken to the relevant page. Otherwise, search the books section of your local amazon for “1 x 50 x 100” to get yourself a copy!
On Saturday, we went to the farm. I saw horses and cows and sheeps and trees. Theres a man at the farm called a farmer and he sed that cows is where milk was from. But I know bottles is where milk is from and machines and the man sed yes, now-a-days milk is from machines.
Daddy says in the old days there was real animals and trees and you could climb on the tractor. But Mummy says I would of got my new boots muddy on an olden days farm. I think we are better with the picture one.