Shouts From Down Under

Review takes my mind hostage, childhood memories the ransom

You can blame

Doremi and reviewing her story

Time  (E) Mother's internal dialogue about her daughter growing up. #1059402 by Doremi

for hijacking my mind and forcing me (it didn't take much) to trael through time to visit my growing up years.
Also, I needed something to write in this blog...

Whenever the creek flooded, our farm became isolated from town, 30 odd kilometres away, and while Mum and Dad pulled their hair out trying to get to and from from work, the barrier of water prevented us from travelling to school.

For my sister and brother, and the four cousins who lived with us, we were delighted. We hated school.

Our house didn't get electricity until the early 1970's, because it was one of the last farms along an isolated road, and there were demands for many thousands of dollars from the power company, for the priveledge of being connected to the grid.

So when I was a tacker, we still used kerosene lanterns with a cotton mantle, white threads with a red / pink centre. There was a plunger with a polished metal knob, and when you wanted to light it and continue to use it, you had to pump the plunger quite a bit, I guess to pressurise the tank.

My father had warned me to "leave the kero lamps alone and NEVER touch the mantle!".

This night for some reason I can't recall, I was at home alone and everyone else was trying to get back home, across the flooded creek. Mum worked in town as a book keeper.

It was growing so dark and difficult to see that my attention (as kids do) was drawn to the lamp. I tried to remember how to light it, saw there was plenty of kerosene fuel in the tank, screwed the cap back on without cross threading it, like I'd seen dad do it, and then proceeded to give the plunger a good pumping.

I then tried to poke a match through the small holes under the glass, not realising that there was a lever to lift the glass lense cover up providing access to the mantle. In poking at the mantle with the lit match, of course the mantle, being a fragile well used one, to my horror, fell to bits.

I broke into a sweat, knowing that when Dad returned he would give me a clout and a stern lecture on the lantern.
This he did and I never forgot the lesson.

Heed older people's advice.

But another lesson that was clearer to my young mind and still is today;

If you want to bring light to a situation, the light of truth, don't be afraid to take some knocks and opposition, particularly if you break things in the attempt...

Perhaps I'm still trying to light things today with my writing, perhaps in a gentler fashion, like I should have done with the mantle in the lamp.

After all, even my WDC handle is...

Sparky