winnie's human (all work and no play)
i feel pretty
My grandmother wore dresses just like these.
She had plaids and checks, rose prints and daisy prints. Yellows and greens and blues. A whole rainbow of dresses.
It was a good thing because she was a mullocker – every time she ate, a dab of gravy or a spot of custard would find its way onto Grandma’s flower-patterned bosom. “Oh I’ve mullocked again,†she’d laugh after every meal and some times after tea breaks too.
You can imagine, there was plenty of laundry. There was always laundry.
Once a week granny would put on her daffodil yellow housecoat, buttoning it up the front to cover the mullock zone that ran from her thickset waist to the dimpled top of her sternum. The skirt of the housecoat was pleated from waist to knee like rays of the sun that fanned out when she moved, picking up and shaking out the laundry with two quick flaps. On windy days the dresses would snap like a circus master’s whip but on still days they’d sigh and settle back into granny-shaped garments.
As she pegged out her 7 dresses on the line for the sun and air to do its work she’d hum a tune: I feel pretty, oh so pretty… anticipating the moment when her washing was dry and she’d run a thumb along dresses 1 to 7 and pick out her favourite for the day.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Debra Broughton and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
