I follow ‘Just Olga’ (Olganm.Wordpress.com) and one of her many comments mentioned childhood memories, which inspired me to write this blog. It actually happened to me when I was a kid of about eight.
‘Our Kath. Go outside to coal’ouse and get bucket of coal,’ my father said. (I should add that we were northerners, from the UK, hence the phrasing of this sentence).
I knew better than to argue, and with a sigh I climbed from my knees, reluctantly glancing down at my unopened Christmas presents. Why me? I thought. My brother should go. There were strict male/female chores in our household. Most of the jobs were deemed as women’s work, but not the laying of fires and bringing in the coal from the outside coal house. That task fell to my father or my brother, who, because he was a year younger than me, was only expected…
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