THIS EXPLAINS A LOT

From my mother’s diary on 24th November 1953. I would have been 4 years old.

“Julia sat on the chair for three solid hours last night. Just before 10 o’clock Phil told her that we were ready to go to bed and if she didn’t go up now she could sit there all night by herself. She just got off the chair, went upstairs by herself, got into bed & said goodnight, and we didn’t hear any more out of her at all.”

Having recently had Leo and Rose to stay, the evening after I read this I sat in my lounge with Golfer and tried to envisage either of them sitting on a hard chair for three hours being ignored, without protest, without squirming, without whining, without putting their arms out and crying…and myself keeping up the punishment for three hours, unrelenting, without feeling any concern or compassion or pity for them. I was unable to even imagine it.

It clearly wasn’t a one-off for the words “the chair” imply that it was a regular occurrence. Worse, I’ve seen photos of me when I was four; shy, plump, needy, clinging to my mother’s skirts.

I know things have changed, life was not the same sixty years ago and people are what they are and do the best they can; also that the diaries are filled with happy times and lots of love and laughter, but  the thought of that fat, solemn faced little girl being so desperate for company that she was willing to sit in the middle of a room on a hard chair for three hours without moving, without protesting and without receiving the slightest bit of attention, until she gave up, threatened with staying there all night by herself, and even politely said goodnight when she finally had to go to bed alone, fills me with so much rage and revolt that I can hardly breathe.

Comments

[cesca]

very sad :(