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05 August 2007

 
Out of my childhood AGAIN:

Muffin the Mule
Before I was born, during the post-war housing shortage, my father, mother, brother, and sister lived in a caravan. The man who had originally created Muffin the Mule lived there too in a fine, old gypsy caravan. There was an orchard beside them and monks came to pick the apples. One monk was a dwarf. My sister pulled a teapot down on herself and was scalded badly. My mother would take a rifle and shoot at rats in the tip, and the doctor was so taken with the idea that he had a go too. Then they moved out and I suppose moved to Botley not terribly long after, which was were we were when I was born. My mother's great friend was Morag, whose husband was an airline pilot, and who was a total slob until her husband was due home. She'd say, "See how nice it is," about the difference. They had a number of children and one at least was christened in Madeira as they had a great friendship with the mayor. The pilot husband would eat ratafia biscuits and drink madeira. It was a toss-up whether I'd be called Vivian or Morag, but Vivian won out.

posted by - 10:53 PM

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For whatever reason, I keep having to edit my comment and re-post it; I apologize for taking up space with my deleted drafts!

Thank you for this account of one of your childhood experiences. This one is quite evocative! To my child mind it sounds romantic and exotic.

I always dreamed of being carried off by gypsies in one of those very beautiful wooden caravans pulled by a strong horse, painted with colorful designs, everything one would need inside, neatly tucked away, rumbling down the road in all seasons.
 
See why I have to edit? Now it reads as though the HORSE was painted with colorful designs!
 

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