Dear Diary…

Thursday 6th

Recently I joined a new group on Facebook, it was recommended to me by a fellow Frugaler after one of our many discussions, Its centres around food and recipes while living through the Great American Depression era. But alongside the recipes, ideas, and learning about making ends meet, there’s the fascinating stories,

Back to the future..

It seems to me that alongside the ever soaring prices of food, fuel, and the cost of living in general, people are adapting to a whole new style of living,(well no I’m wrong there, we are going back in time to learn new/old skills, evolving thwm to fit today’s new world, Several people in my new group have dug out amazing hand written recipe books from the Great Greatmothers, Wonderful women who not only fed large family on little to nothing, but the children tell of how they never went without . Foraging, hunting and kitchen gardens providing the bulk of provisions, only visiting stores to buy coffee, flour, sugar and bare essentials,…clothes were handed down, either being patched up, altered or the odd scrap of fabric found to make it look new..

Now though I didn’t grow up in the mountains regions of America, and we didn’t have a depression hanging over us. I did however Grow up in a rough industrial town in the 70s, We had a large family of seven, a three bed council house, and like most of our neighbours at that time just the one wage coming in, My father being quite literally the sole bread winner.

We were lucky in one respect, because we had with our house a decent sized back garden, My parents with the Dig for victory(second world war reference) mentality still fresh in their minds grew most of our veg . There was always row upon row of Garden peas, Dwarf runner beans, radishes, lettuce, potatoes, tomatoes and onions, when things were harvested, cleaned and stored in our huge metal blue shed, the soil was prepared for the following year,

Clothes were passed down from my older siblings, cousin’s or neighbours children, receiving a black sack of second hand clothes was something akin to Christmas, there was no thought of where they had come from, I had never worn them before so to me they were new, other sources were charity shops or my favourite the jumble sale😁, .Normally held in the local church hall over the winter months, money raised there went to the church found,.I remember mother hurrying me out the door, me barely getting my coat on before we were off rushing down the street, my little chapped legs encased in thick wool stocking going two to the dozen trying to keep up with my harassed mother pulling me along the road, Mum’s florid faced friend Beaty doing her utmost to catch us up, These Gals were of one mind only, to get to the jumble sale early before the best stuff went..

And if this meant waiting on the steps of the hall for those doors to be swung open in the winters icy cold, so be it, anything in the name of a bargain…Some of the more seasoned professionals, stood out there for over an hour to get front on queues,(Others bribed their children to stand their for them to save a place) I’m not too proud to say I did this more than one 😁,

What were we all waiting for?….A Jumble Sale was in fact trestle tables set against the walls in a horseshoe shape, each table heaving with second hand clothes, shoes, handbags, Others had books, tools, puzzles and games,. Anything deemed a little bit upper crust was hung in neat rows from clothes rails, stood behind each table was normally two very eagle eyed determined looking ladies, between them a lidded biscuit tin to collect money in…

Once those doors were opened to the public, people thronged in like their very lives depended on getting in the tiny building first, when small I got pushed away from my Mum by some woman, bag tightly clutched over Her arm as she elbowed her way through, I tell you Rugby had nothing on these woman when they scrummed through those doors and saw those tables,😁, I can still to this day hear those excited womans raised voices, and smell the strong musty scent of second hand clothes plus moth balls 😁.

Times back then were so very different, we had less expectations, we didn’t want the latest big screen tv, iphone, or computer ..If someone had a car in our street they became Posh😁, if their children got new bikes, scooters or skates for Christmas the parents had more money than sense according to the mother’s meeting standing on the corner of our street gossiping behind their hands😁.

But one thing living in my tough little town taught me was how to thrive in the little you have. Now many years later those very same lessons are as vital today as they were then, And others are finding out the same thing, more and more you read of food banks cropping up, Facebook freegal sites, people upcycling, recycling and repurposing, we are using skills of yesteryear to make it through our modern day lives, and I have become no exception.

I no longer take for granted those things I possess, they have to last, I have to make them..I no longer just buy replacements items for things that break, i either try to repair it,adapt it so I can still use it or go without, I’m also finding I have a need for far few things,..I’ve not owned a tv in over five years, I don’t possess a tumble dryer, stereo, mainly because there’s no room😁, but neither do I want them..

Living within a frugal lifestyle however means there’s something else of even more value I’ve learnt to appreciate recently, this is to maximise the pleasure I get from things I do have, over the weekend for instance I splashed out on a pack of four scones, yup that’s it…just scones😁, I already had jam in my store, so there I sat a large mug of coffee, one scone with jam, it has been weeks since I enjoyed anything other than my two regular meals per day, eyes closed, head tilted back, the sweetness exploded with a tart sharpness from the Blackcurrant jam, upon my tongue, the scone crumbled with freshness, there I savoured every single last mouthful, I found for the first time in an age I not only found the food alive with more flavour, but I was enjoying it to the full, . And there it is folk, we have become so used to treating ourselves all the time, anytime, that treating ourselves means upping the stakes, spending more money to achieve that enjoyment…there’s other things too, like a letter from my daughter, finding a book I really enjoy and reading a chapter each morning between chores, writing a poem, the smell of fresh laundered sheets straight from off the line …suddenly I’m no longer taking for granted simple things I had once, I’ve realised with some shock, much is infact no longer equated with happiness, and as I listen to the lone clear sweet voice of a blackbird after rain, the church bell ringing softly in the distance blown in by a soft evening breeze, these are riches and sometimes it takes losing things you didn’t need anyhow to gain even more.anyway enough from me folks, take care out there, until next time ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤