Army Slop, Cooks Privilege, White Liver and Disappearing Chicken

When I was three years old – my father died.  I subsequently spent a lot of time in the kitchen sitting on a high stool and reading.  By the time I was about six or seven years old – my mother decided to teach me to cook.  That Sunday she was doing Stewed Beef with irish potatoes.  Her instructions included added water to the meat until it became soft.  Which I dutifully did.  When she asked me if the meat was soft yet, of course I said yes – even if it had disintegrated to gravy.  Anyway, it was served with the rice & peas for dinner and my siblings promptly christened it the Army Slop.  But nah nah – it still tasted good.

I enjoyed cooking very much and my mother made a rule that anyone who cooked the Sunday Dinner would be entitled to Cook’s Privilege.  This meant that the cook could share any amount of food for themself.  Well I had a big appetite when I was little so you know that most of a roast chicken would be on my plate.  My mother however, quickly put a stop to that.

Then came the day that I was to cook some liver and onions for breakfast.  I was instructed to wash the liver before seasoning it.  My poor mother – still had not realised that I took her instructions very literally.  So I washed the liver until not a drop of blood was left and it turned white.  There was also the time that I seasoned the liver with Salt Petre instead of salt – can you say BLAND AND WITHOUT TASTE?

Fried chicken was a favorite.  But my family was very versed in removing pieces of chicken under your very nose.  My mother was the chief culprit.  She would come and talk to you and you are dilligently watching her hands and yet when she left – you would see a piece or two missing from the bowl.

Carol’s DJ career

In the early 70′s after the advent of (Forty Legs) , my sister Carol decided that she was going to be a DJ.  So she gathered us on the verandah and proceeded to regale us with her DJ rhyme.  It goes like this..

Say de dread flash him locks/Pon de mountain top/and it strike him in de back/ and a lightning flash/ Sey him like dumpling cause it is de someting/…..

She got stuck right there.

The SuperGirl Cape

When I was five years old, my mother had a tenant whose boyfriend travelled to Miami very frequently.  On his return trips he would bring back comics of all kinds for me.  My favorite at the time was SuperGirl and Superman comics.  On one return trip he gave me a SuperGirl cape (blazing red with the SuperGirl emblem).  My mother took one look at it and said, “you can’t fly in it”.  Notice she did not say “It wont make you fly”.

So one day while she was at work, I went on the housetop with my cape.   My older sister (7 years old), and my little sister (about 2 1/2 yrs – who at the time was still answering questions in single syllable answers) stood under the Sweetsop tree to watch.  As a matter of fact, she could not say Sylvia – but called me Tilly or Tillyboo instead.

So the great moment had arrived and I spread my arms, opened my cape, shouted, ” Up , Up and Away!” .  Then I jumped.

I promptly landed in the sweetsop tree where the cape proceeded to strangle me as it had gotten caught in the branches.  My quick thinking older sister ran inside, grabbed a scissors and proceeded to cut the cape.  My little sister shouted up at me (in her little baby voice), ” Don’t worry Tillyboo, you flew for twee seconds and then you fell like a stone”.

My mother (who by this time was getting quite used to rushing me to the hospital for some injury or another) came home, saw my sister cutting the cape, and said, “She bleeding?”

My sister: “No Mommy”

Mommy: “She break anything?”

My sister: “No Mommy”

Mommy: “At least she had the sense to jump where the tree was.  I am going to bed”

At least .. heh heh.. no spanking

Mojo Herb and Brooklax

Who remembers the dreaded washout?  When your mother (why is it always mothers?) would take out the orange packet from the cupboard and mix the awful smelling mojo herb tea, which after consumption would cause you to race to the bathroom clutching your bottom.

My mother was really a believer in this dreaded concoction.  My sister Carol used to throw hers to the dogs until my mother caught her in mid throw one day.  She then took to mixing it in Ovaltine – which to this day my sister cannot stand to even hear the name.

My friend Peter and I have a few ideas of what we would do to the person who actually invented this vile brew.  One of my favorites is tying him to a toilet and setting him up with an intravenous drip with guess what … Mojo Herb.

Now the person I would like to strangle is the person who invented Brooklax.  Which sick mind was it that thought of including a laxative in a chocolate bar?  I found some in my mother’s cupboard one day and had a feast… needless to say I spent the day making numerous trips to the bathroom.  At one point I just decided to play near the bathroom  to make things easier on myself.

Luckily I was not turned off of chocolate.