Bless me Father for I Have Sinned #100DaysOfOldDays

Posted on March 1, 2022 by Gloria

Day 17 #100DaysOfOldDays

I haven’t been inside a confession box in years. Since 1992 to be exact. Any sins I’ve committed since then, I’ve confessed in the privacy of my own head. Not that I have much to confess!

As children we used to go to confessions every second Saturday. The three pews beside the confession box would be full of school children.

The chapel was huge in the eyes of a small child, and every little noise echoed from high ceilings to tiled floors, convincing innocent little minds that the holy statues were alive. Anxious little sinners whispered, asking each other what the devil made them do since their last confession.

***The Confession Box by Lucy McBreen***

Hearts thumped in their little ribcages, as the priest’s shutter closed briskly, and the one opposite opened. When one child left the box, the next in line entered. Then the seats would creak, as the others slid across one by one, getting closer to their turn. The nearer you got to the box, the faster your heart would beat.

You were so close now you could hear the mumblings of the priest, and the soft whispers of your fellow delinquent pleading for forgiveness. Or it might be the Pam Ayres sound-alike, rhyming her sins off so loud even the nuns in the front pew prayed for her!

Once inside the box, there was no turning back. It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, all the time you’re rehearsing your sins in your head because if you were to forget one, you’d go home with a black spot on what was meant to be a squeaky clean soul. And the mad thing is; the sins were the same every time. I was disobedient, I was unkind, I told lies and I cursed. Every time!

It was important to be quick about it too, because the longer you spent in the confession box, the more sins people said you had.

The same rule applied to how long you spent saying your penance when you came out. If you spent too long on your knees, it was assumed you had a lot to be sorry for.

Usually it was three Hail Marys and one Our Father, and the Act of Contrition. I remember one lad having to say a decade of the Rosary. He actually grew up to be a grand fella…so he did!

Cowboys in the Good Room #100DaysOfOldDays

Posted on February 28, 2022 by Gloria

Day 16 #100DaysOfOldDays

This photo could keep us going right up to the last day of our 100DaysOfOldDays Project. It’s like a bag of Dolly Mixtures. Where should I begin? The room itself.

The sitting room…better known as the good room. The only day of the year when the fire was lit in that room was Christmas Day and that was the only day we were allowed into it. It was reserved for very special visitors (none that I can remember) and Tubberware and make-up parties.

The wall!

Wallpaper junkies would sell their souls to the devil for this groovy purple & gold wallpaper. Check these out on Amazon if you don’t believe me. Big and bold was the way to go in the 70’s. Mam loved wallpaper. Dad used to say it was to cover up all the holes she made from hammering in nails. She moved the pictures on the walls as often as she moved the furniture…and that was a lot!

We’ll briefly mention the gold plated plate thingy on the wall that the very glamorous Christmas decoration is clinging to.

Next;

Those were our Santy toys. I’m pretty sure I got a nurse’s costume that Christmas too. We would have also got an annual each, and a box of Oatfield Colleen sweets between us. That was it though. Not like the myriad of toys you see nowadays.

The doll was called Action Girl. I was never so disappointed in anything in my whole life. I saw Action Girl demonstrating her numerous skills on television. She was amazing…doing somersaults, handstands and she could even fly through the air with her luxurious locks flowing in the wind behind her. I could just imagine her flying across Drumbannon, while everyone else’s boring Barbies watched with envy!

You can imagine my excitement when I saw her there, at the foot of my bed beside my Mandy annual on Christmas morning. Santy really loved me! When I opened the box and took her out, she was dead. No life whatsoever in her rigid plastic body. And I wasn’t impressed that she had hinges on her knees and elbows so they could bend. She couldn’t do any of the things I saw her doing on the telly. But I eventually forgave her and fell in love with her.

Let’s talk about the lamp. Mam went through a phase of sticking shells to pretty much everything in the house. Well, anything that putty would stick to. She would have us all collecting shells at the beach so she could make little shell animals and other shell ornaments. This lamp was once a big glass jar. She stuck the shells on with putty, varnished it, and inserted a push-through socket and socket shell. Bought a shade, or re-used an old one, and in her words, ‘Bod’s your uncle and Fanny’s your aunt…a brand new lamp!’

Would you look at the lovely china cabinet! Full of things that rarely got used. Mind you, I see the green glass dessert set that did come out every Sunday (on the middle shelf). Instant whip and jelly. Was so good!

What colour is that couch? Mustard? I think it was more for style, because it definitely wasn’t very comfortable to sit on. Then again, Mam didn’t want us in the good room so why would she put a comfy couch in there!?

I just want to add…I didn’t cut my baby brother out of the photo. Whoever took the photo did. But I do know he was wearing an Indian outfit. Three cowboys against one Indian. What on earth was Santy thinking?

Little Miss Ten is excused from sketching today. She’s very much under the weather but hopefully she’ll be back in action very soon!

Featured image courtesy of Peggy_Marco

Pretty Rusty #100DaysOfOldDays

Posted on February 27, 2022 by Gloria

Day 15 #100DaysOfOldDays

My husband found this vintage enamel jug in the old hen house at his grandfather’s derelict house. After cleaning it up, we thought about trying to remove the rusty bits. But we decided not to, as it adds to its old-fangled charm.

Enamel has been around for thousands of years. Coating cast iron cooking pots with enamel began in Germany in the 1760’s. By the early 1800’s porcelain enamel lined cookware had made its way to European countries.

Enamel kitchenware is by no means a thing of the past. The cookware of today is coated in a higher grade enamel. For example; Le Creuset, is coated in a glass enamel made with a ‘secret’ enamel recipe.

The enamel mugs and jugs might not be coated with the same high quality enamel as the pots and pans. The mugs have always been a popular choice for campers, and I see they’re back on the mug stands in many homeware stores.

The jugs are often used these days as a vase for flowers. They’re really pretty.

Lights Out #100DaysOfOldDays

Posted on February 26, 2022 by Gloria

Day 14 #100DaysOfOldDays

As children we loved when the lights went out. That’s 70’s slang for power outage. When the electricity went off in those days, it stayed off for a couple of hours or more. Sometimes it wouldn’t be restored until the next morning.

The lights and the television were the main things we needed electricity for. Our solid fuel range heated the house and the water. We didn’t have electric blankets—electric what? A dish washer was unheard of. No such thing as a microwave. Our cooker was gas. The radio/tape recorder usually had working batteries in it. (Mam loved her music) The washing machine was electric, and so was the iron, but those things mattered not to children.

We loved the excitement of being in semi-darkness. We often ended up telling ghost stories!

A candle flickered in our little red metal candle holder; the same one I would later take to bed. Mam would open the door of the range to let out an extra bit of light from the red hot coals.

My dad would go searching for a mantle and some paraffin to light the Tilley lamp. There was always paraffin, but sometimes we’d have no mantle, and the Tilley was useless without it.

***Old Style Metal Candle Holder by Lucy McBreen***

There was great light from the Tilley. A bit like the clay pipe, you’ll likely find old Tilley lamps in places of historic interests — old style pubs in particular. The smell of paraffin still reminds me of the nights when the lights went out.