HERNE BAY
The Little Restaurant on the Prom
A childhood memoir of life before polio, and immediately after, and my magical childhood adventures in and out of a wheelchair
Mother's Idiosyncratic Habits and Dad's
My dad would say:''Yer mother always warms herself at the expense of others.'' We huddled around the paraffin stove at the back of the restaurant; in mothballs now for the winter. We had dismantled the tables and put them in the cellar. In their place was a large kitchen table and an armchair or two. Dad had fixed up a door to separate us from the front of the restaurant. We still used the restaurant kitchen for preparing meals.
[Photo: Harold Gough]
That winter was so cold even the sea froze. Gigantic icicles of sea water formed like Jurassic teeth along the railings of the seafront.
The Downs were a blitz of white leaving the brave amongst us to toboggan our way down. Sometimes we improvised using only a tin tray for a sledge which would career out of control, nine times out of ten, and crash. We felt no pain then, only pleasure.
Dad would 'let go' with a slow stunner of a fart: silent but deadly. He would hid behind his newspaper and gradually lean sideways. The newspaper was the give-away. His silent laughter rattled the pages. ''Phooforrrre! Daaad!'' "What?'' he would say in mock surprise. ''Phooforrre. YOU know.'' By now Dad was helpless with laughter and, if the truth were known, so were we.
As I was saying: mother ALWAYS did it. She would enter the room, icy wind in pursuit, and make straight for the fire. ''For Christ's sake, woman, put the wood in the hole'' said Dad, standing up and heaving the door closed, sending an even colder blast of air around the already freezing room. We all wore three jumpers and a pullover. It was that cold. She ALWAYS did it and does to this day! She gets angry when you point it out so no one says anything anymore, even when one of us stands up and quietly closes the door hoping she won't notice. If she does spot you she gets angry again: idiosyncratic or what?
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