A Dartmoor Childhood

Sweetness of mother’s milk… He recalled the vague memory from infancy. Those times were hard; father, a traveler and adulterer, abroad.
His family lived in a small cottage with peeling wallpaper and cracked windows, down a dirt track on Dartmoor. There were four of them – himself, sister, brother and mother. They would often sit, watching raindrops running down the lichen-tinged panes, longing for somewhere bigger and finer.
Work was scarce in those parts; in harder times, he and brother would eke out a living, catching rabbits and sometimes rats. Mother and sister would stay at home doing washing, singing in their own sweet fashion.
One February day a wealthy lady moved into the old manor nearby. He would see her driving a motor car across the frosty moor, dressed in finery.
Soon she came visiting and, seeing the state of the cottage, exclaimed, “You poor dears, come with me, I will give you work and wholesome food!”
She gathered their meagre belongings and the family went willingly.
Now, sitting in the sunny manor garden six months later, he heard the luncheon bell ring. Entering by a small door he went to his bowl. He approved – minced chicken in jelly. Miaow!

4 thoughts on “A Dartmoor Childhood

If you'd like to comment, don't be shy!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.