We
wore our best dresses
and
ribbons in our hair.
My hair was left unplaited
to
flow down over my shoulders.
They
had butterfly cakes
with
cream and jelly.
They
had thin-sliced bread and butter
dotted
with hundreds-and-thousands.
Everyone
(except me) passed the parcel
and
pinned the tail on the donkey.
I
was very happy all afternoon
in
the armchair under the window.
I’d
found the treasure! I was allowed
to
have it as long as the party lasted.
When
my Dad came to pick me up,
Jeanette’s
father said to him (he told me after):
‘What
a strange little girl. She didn’t want
to
join in and play with the other children.
‘She
just sat in a corner all day
by
herself, reading a book.’
‘I
had to finish the story,’ I said.
‘I had to read it all before the party ended.’
Dad explained about trying to fit in,
behaving
the same as everyone else
(if
I wanted people to like me).
I
was seven. I tried for a long, long time.
It
never worked. I’m still peculiar
in my
idea of fun. (But some people like me.)
Digital Photograph - Six Little Girls Lined up in Party Dresses, Northcote, 1948
Source: Museum Victoria. This image is: Public Domain
Written for Day 7 of Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month: 'Peculiar fun and me'.
No use trying to pick me out in the photo. I would have been inside, reading. Besides, I lived in Tasmania, not Melbourne, and in 1948 I was 9. (Oh all right – I was quite a lot like the little girl on the right.)
PS Now some people seem to think that little girl WAS me. No, just quite like. Below are pics of me with my family: the first when I was probably six, the second when I know I was eight.
PS Now some people seem to think that little girl WAS me. No, just quite like. Below are pics of me with my family: the first when I was probably six, the second when I know I was eight.
Oh! This is absolutely delightful :D I can almost picture you sitting in a corner completely absorbed while reading your book. Beautifully expressed!
ReplyDeleteLots of love,
Sanaa
At such an early age you knew exactly what was good for you. That was a lot of determination shown, Rosemary, certainly good for the future. Ideal background for a dark story too!
ReplyDeleteHank
Inquiring minds need to know.
ReplyDeletethe title of the book
perhaps if I read
I can become 7
Alas, lost in the mists of time. I recall it was a collection of fairy stories, but not Grimm or Andersen. Something non-classic and surely long out of print.
DeleteYep. Totally recognise that little girl...maybe we are all peculiarly the same :D XXX
ReplyDeleteReading over parties! My kind of girl!
ReplyDeleteOh the blessing of not fitting in, I can relate. Wonderfully-expressed! And are those little girls cute...xx
ReplyDeleteIt did indeed prove to be a great blessing. :-)
DeleteOh, Rosemary, I picked you out right away - SO CUTE!!!!! And so vibrant. I preferred books to parties too. Still do. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteYes, she's very like. My hair was a lot fairer, of course, like the girl on the left, and I maybe wasn;t quite so plump any more at the age of seven.
DeleteI was thrilled to find this photo online which, albeit in a different city, came from the same era.
I so adore that you still have the same smile and the same sense of self. Had I been invited to Jeanette Davis's party, we would have probably winked at each other... you from the corner with your book, me on the branch of a tree near a window having a party with a book.
ReplyDeleteLove the tone of these poem, Rosemary.
Ha ha, yes I did the up a tree with book thing too.
DeleteHave now added some photos of the real me around that age, so you can see the real smile.
LOL - yep that was my idea of fun as well. Still is as a matter of fact!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely delightful and of course can do very much relate ❤️
ReplyDelete