Free Everything I Have Always Forgotten by Owain Hughes Page A

worked as a translator throughout the war) knew, I believe, her limits as to how many small children she could manage at any one time. Their house was always a delightful chaos, not unlike our own, yet very different in its muddle.
    This uncle and aunt came to stay with us from time to time and if either was under the weather, they both retired to bed and ate nothing until they both felt better. She always had just the right tool in her handbag for any small repairs that might come up. We saved up broken twelve-volt table lights and egg timers for this aunt to repair when she came.
    * * *
    The Banker Uncle (by marriage, the one whose courtship caused my grandmother to call him ‘A counter-jumper’), on the other hand, was very tall and kind. He treated me as his equal – which left me swimming in completely unknown waters. The Farmer Uncle (also by marriage) was kind enough and jolly, though with him I was clearly a child. In both cases, I was bewildered by the regular, excessive meals, which seemed to take up the whole day, when one could have been off catching tadpoles or fishing for minnows in the stream.
    There was always breakfast with cereal, eggs and bacon and sausages and fried tomatoes, and toast and marmalade… Then came luncheon with overcooked meat and overcooked vegetables and a bland salad and some pudding. Tea entailed little cups and saucers with milk jug and sugar bowl and little spoons and tiny sandwiches and scones and cakes. Dinner, included an hors d’oeuvre , more meat or fish and vegetables (forever, over-cooked), a salad and desert. The rhythm suffocated me, though I followed it politely.
    The banker’s hobby and expertise had led him to become Chairman of the British Numismatic Society. He never spoke of his business day. But he did show me a little ‘valueless’ coin in his collection that amused him: it had been minted in the very village to which he had moved, by the local grocer or perhaps the general store. What amused him about it was that the merchant’s family name was the same as his own. The fact that it was minted in about 1450 gave it no great value, he told me. In those days, the King minted sovereigns (and no one else might do the same), but there was no small change available. A sovereign was a year’s pay for a labourer. So the local store minted their own change which was probably only viable at that store… the very origin of the ‘company store’. This uncle was very tall, slender and courtly.
    The Farmer was a little more corpulent, and much shorter. He walked with a rolling limp from too many broken legs and hips as a horse trainer before the War. He was always in a good mood and had the fattest, the healthiest, the best pigs, sheep and cattle. He ran his farm with great efficiency and was always beamingly proud of his crops, his stock and his children. He was also a mine of child-friendly funny stories and anecdotes, which he recounted in his jolly fast voice and then laughed at with more gusto than did we. He was treasurer of his church and was once pounced upon after a service by a large lady of the congregation:
    â€œMr Treasurer, you have not sent me a receipt for my generous contribution.”
    â€œOh dear” he replied, “when did you send it? What kind of envelope was it in?”
    â€œThree weeks ago in one of those small brown business envelopes.”
    â€œWell, that explains it! I take quite a while to open brown envelopes, they usually contain bills.”
    Both of these kind Uncles and Aunts had what Mother referred to as: ‘conventional homes’, with lots of little tables piled with knickknacks, tiny china figurines and silver whatsits. They were what I would call, ‘overstuffed houses’. No place for toddlers, but I was a discreet boy by then, I wore a tie to dinner and attempted conversation with my neighbours at table. It was like being in prison for me… I far preferred to be