A woman who was midriff challenged left us behind.
Routines were kept alive, as promptly at five, the family reluctantly stopped playing and assembled around the seated table. Served lumpy mash, green lizard peas, and something blackish that resembled a sausage is the unanimous guess. Squabbling siblings got a swift kick if they attempted to continue while dining. Oh, how they missed that encompassing big-bellied woman.
The following day, remnants of dinner were served cold to those who had refused last night’s offerings, and the woman returned, slimmer, “Hi, you lot. Come and say hello to your youngest brother.”
P.S. My – A-Z of NZ Locations – posts are slightly behind schedule, though hopefully, a post about Upper Moutere will be finished sooner rather than later.
Life at No. 22 
A delightfully penned introduction
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Thanks, Derrick, much appreciated.
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One of my earliest coherent memories is the series of events around my sister arriving. I was a few months shy of 3. She made a big impression!
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You must’ve realised she was going to require more attention 😉 I also remember that we had to change out of our school clothes before going into the bedroom to view the cute bundle of joy. I was 7.
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Charming. When they brought my little brother home (I was 22 months old) they put him on my lap and said he was mine. I don’t remember anything else around that time, only that treasure that was mine to love.
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That’s very cute, Martha. By the way, the kicking under the table was us kids, not Dad. He was too busy burning the sausages.
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I got that! 🤣
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Thank goodness 😊
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