A Spoonful of Sugar by Brenda Ashford

Author:Brenda Ashford [Ashford, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-385-53642-4
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2013-04-02T04:00:00+00:00

Fun! That was what was missing from her life.

So the next day, during our morning walk, I instigated a new game.

“Let’s all pretend to make animal noises,” I announced.

John started first with a marvelous impression of a duck. His quacking soon had everyone in stitches. Then it was my turn.

“I am a lion,” I said. I tipped my head back and roared. “Let’s all roar.”

Soon the fields around Little Cranford were echoing with the sound of roaring lions.

I looked at Gretel.

A funny little sound escaped her lips. A laugh!

I roared again. There it was again. A throaty little giggle that lifted my sprits.

She never fully came out of her shell, but from that day on I think she knew she could trust me. I learned an important lesson from Gretel. Just as important as love, children need fun in their life.

There is all the time in the world to be serious and studious, as they get older, have to find employment, pay bills, and get bogged down in the responsibilities of being an adult, so surely little folk deserve a childhood that’s full of fun? It’s the single most valuable lesson in my eyes. I have always encouraged children to have a giggle wherever and whenever they can.

Having fun encourages happiness, well-being, and confidence and fosters a wonderful sense of self-esteem. Most of the well-adjusted adults I know today had a childhood ringing with fun.

A mischievous belly laugh and a child’s eyes that sparkle with fun light up my heart like nothing else on earth.

Besides having fun my time in the countryside taught me a great many important lessons, not all of them to do with child care.

Country folk respect the land. When you live off it, you have to nurture it and learn to follow its natural ebb and flow. Chickens weren’t eaten that much during the war, as their eggs were too important. Likewise the land needed to be treated like an untapped gold mine.

The countryside around Little Cranford was mostly farming land already, but any scraps that hadn’t been given over to food production now were. During the war the number of acres of British soil under cultivation rose from twelve million in 1939 to just under eighteen million by the end of the war.

At the beginning of the war, 70 percent of our food was imported; by 1943 that figure was reversed.

Land all over the country had been dug up to provide food.

The Ministry of Food issued posters and they were plastered over the village notice boards: “It’s not clever to get more than your fair share.”

Here in Little Cranford the villagers operated their own unofficial food swap system. A farmer might swap the landlord of the local pub a rabbit for five eggs, or eggs for some bread. Villagers would eat anything in a pie, mostly rabbit but even squirrel and roadkill.

People rubbed along together nicely in the countryside, and no one starved. In fact, thanks to the fresh air and profusion of local vegetables, I felt better than I ever had.

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