My button habit

I had to rifle through my sewing supplies drawer this week, looking for some thread to sew up a hem. As I did so, I came across the button box.

The button box has been a permanent fixture with the sewing supplies for almost 20 years now. It is a small wooden, hinged box which I put any spare buttons into. Nowadays, the spare buttons usually come in a plastic bag or a paper envelope, attached to the garment. As I snip off the price tags, I put the buttons aside, and they eventually end up in the box.

Which is where they stay.

Forever.

I don’t think I’ve ever taken a button out of that box and sewn it onto anything. The only time I ever sew buttons back onto clothing is when I catch them falling off and sew them on, then and there.

Anyway, I had a bit of a look through the spare buttons in the button box and it was like seeing my life flash before me. There were some gold and black buttons from a 1990s suit that I remember I changed over for ‘more tasteful’ entirely gold buttons. There was a set of buttons with logos for the corporate uniform items I was required to wear once a year at the company’s AGM. There was a spare fabric covered button from a winter jacket. A large pink square button was a mystery. I have no idea what that came with. A lovely translucent black button for a cardigan I bought in New York last year came with a spare press stud.

One plastic bag contained about 40 spare tiny iridescent sequins. Yeah, like I’m ever going to sew those on.

There was a multitude of delicate small buttons in a variety of colours, the type that may have been off blouses or shirts perhaps.

So many of the buttons originally belonged to garments that have long since disappeared into the depths of charity shop collection bins.

So then I started wondering, why do I have this habit of saving the buttons when I know I won’t do anything with them?

I think the answer lies way back before our time. For generations, every household has had a button box. In frugal times, before worn-out clothing was torn up to be used as cleaning rags (in a time when clothes were worn until they fell apart), buttons were cut off and put into the button box.

When clothing was homemade, you would search through the button box for appropriate buttons rather than buying new ones. It was also the place you went to replace a vital missing button to extend the life of garment. Recycling at its best.

As a child, I took great delight in scrabbling through my mother’s button box. I would sort them into colours, or shapes. I can remember some crystal-look buttons that I was particularly taken with as they were so jewel-like.

My Aunt’s button box was like a treasure-trove of buttons, all sorted according to colour.

Playing with the contents of a button box is a fundamental milestone in a child’s development.

In the early days of my daughter’s schooling she was required to bring to school a container with “50 small objects” in it for counting games. Remembering my own childhood experiences, I turned to my button box and extracted 50 of the most interesting.

I think I continue to save buttons to the button box, knowing that I will probably never use them, because it is part of my cultural heritage. It’s one of those habits, like saving elastic bands, that I’m never going to break.

I'm sure many other people however, save buttons and actually use them.

Do you have a button box? Do you ever use the buttons?

A load of flummery

Flummery (n.)

1. A sweet, soft oatmeal based pudding

2. Meaningless ceremonies and nonsense flattery.

So there I was driving my car, stuck in slow-moving traffic one afternoon last week, when all of a sudden a word pops into my head.

Flummery.

For no apparent reason this word cavorted about, did a couple of cartwheels and disappeared, leaving me wondering, What exactly is flummery?

What I did know was that it is a magic word. Say it aloud and you'll agree. Flummery. It just tumbles off the tongue, and cascades over the lips.

But I wasn't so sure what the meaning of the word was. I had a vague idea that it was a type of dessert. Perhaps a fluffy, fruity one? I guessed there may be sponge involved?

So it was off to Google University to find out.

What I discovered is that 'flummery' means a lot of different things in different places and times. The flummery recipes on websites such as http://www.bestrecipes.com.au/ or http://www.taste.com.au/ look positively delicious: light, summery, fluffy concoctions full of fruit flavour and mostly set with gelatine.

Digging a little deeper however, I found flummery's origins were not so tasty.

According to the The British Food Trust's Great British Kitchen Cookbook, "Flummery occurs in manuscript menus for Scottish feasts as early as the fifteenth century. The ingredients varied but the basis was always soaked cereal, the liquid from which sets to a clear jelly". The base could be flavoured (usually with orange juice or rosewater) and topped with cream and honey and sometimes alcohol.

I found a recipe for what seemed to be a traditional Scottish flummery, such as would have been made and prepared before our time and I decided to give it a go.

I'm warning you, the making of flummery requires commitment. It's a three-day process.

Day One: Soak 75g of fine oatmeal in cold water (enough to cover), stand and leave for 24 hours.

Day Two: Strain off the liquid, discard. Pour 1.2 litres of fresh cold water over oatmeal. Leave to stand for another 24 hours.

Day Three: Strain liquid into a saucepan, pushing as much liquid out of the oatmeal as possible. Discard the oatmeal. Add the juice of two oranges, and 25g caster sugar. Bring to the boil, reduce heat, stir while simmering for 10 minutes until the mixture thickens...

After 20 minutes of stirring the simmering mixture I accepted it was never going to thicken, much less set. And besides, it seemed incredibly unappealing.

The next step of the recipe called for 150mls of double cream to be stirred through the cooled (thickened) mixture before pouring it into bowls to set.

At this point, I decided not to throw good cream after bad flummery and I abandoned my experiment.

This is not an unusual experience. I have had mixed results in the past with recipes from before our time that needed to thicken and set. Who could forget the bad blancmange that had the colour and consistency of snot?

I have a theory about this, which I welcome your comment on. My theory is based on absolutely no solid evidence or rigorous research, just pure hunch. I think that some of our ingredients don't necessarily have the same qualities as they may have had a century or more ago.

Is our oatmeal more refined than the 15th Century Scottish oatmeal was? Does ours contain less starches than are required to set the rogue flummery?

Has anyone ever made an oatmeal flummery that set? Or do you have other old recipes that don't work as well as they used to?

To honour all mothers

It's that time of year again...the day we celebrate and honour all our mothers, and the day we kick off the Great Mother's/Mothers'/Mothers Day Apostrophe Debate.

This time last year, the blogosphere was abuzz with opinions about where the apostrophe should fall.

Google "apostrophe in mothers day" and you'll find over 28,000 results. It seems a lot of us actually do care about this issue!

Last year, M of Easternmax had to get to the bottom of the dilemma. She wrote:

A version of Mother's Day is celebrated in many countries around the world on many different days of the year. A quick Google or Wikipedia search will tell you this. The most popular days are Mothering Sunday in the UK which is on the third Sunday of Lent and Mother's Day in many other countries on the second Sunday in May.

If your country celebrates Mother's Day on the second Sunday in May it is likely that you follow the US tradition inspired by the quest of Anna Jarvis, who wanted a 'holy' recognition of individual mothers and Julia Ward Howe, whose experiences of the American Civil War led her to call for the recognition of the role of mothers. Formal recognition of a Mother's Day as designated by Jarvis was was finally enshrined by the 1914 proclamation by then US President Woodrow Wilson.

The location of the apostrophe is part of the common debate which asks:

-Is it a day recognising your mother eg. Mother's Day
-Is it a day recognising all mothers eg. Mothers' Day, or
-Is it a day of/for mothers eg. Mothers Day

There are no winners here because all answers can be correct depending on your point of view.

My view is: don't argue, choose whichever one you are comfortable with.

However, if you are a stickler for the fine print you will notice that the Proclamation issued by Woodrow Wilson in 1914 was for a Mother's Day. This use of the apostrophe was apparently stipulated by Anna Jarvis because it was to be a singular possessive, for each family to honour their mother, not a plural possessive commemorating all mothers in the world. source: here

Anna Jarvis, in fact, trademarked the terms "Mother's Day" and "second Sunday in May" in 1912.

So, if your country follows the US designation then it is correct when referring to the day in its official capacity to write Mother's Day (unless an alternative proclamation has been made in your country).

You just NEEDED to know that, didn't you...

All of which seems to lead to the fact, you can call it what you like.

Before our time, in the Victorian era in Britain, Mothering Sunday was a day on which children who worked in domestic service could return to their own homes to visit their mothers and attend their home church. Even earlier, it was an annual day for all parishioners to return to their "mother" church, (i.e. the one in their home parish) if they had moved away from it.

Early last century, when Anna Jarvis in the United States began her campaign of lobbying prominent businessmen and politicians to create a special day to honour mothers it was with the intention of creating a celebration of the importance of women and their work inside the home, as mothers. She intended that children would visit their mothers and attend church with them, or perhaps write letters if too far away to visit.

Almost immediately, she became quite concerned about the commercialization of Mother's Day as she had wanted it to be a day of sentiment, not profit. She opposed the use of greeting cards: "a poor excuse for the letter you are too lazy to write." (source)

One wonders what Anna Jarvis would think of the 'celebration' that Mothers' Day has become now? Retail catalogues try to convince us that every mum wants needs fluffy slippers, dressing gowns, books, chocolates, flowers, jewellery, digital cameras, kitchen appliances and cosmetics.

Restaurants and cafes are packed as families take their mothers out for indulgent lunches.

The retail, food and entertainment sectors see it as a huge marketing opportunity and, obviously, a successful one.

Perhaps, along with the rogue apostrophe, Mothers Day has lost its true place?

How do you celebrate Mothers Day/Mother's Day/Mothers' Day/Mothering Sunday?

Modelling healthy body-types

“We are to be a pretty shape this Spring and for many seasons to come it seems. No more top-heavy shoulders balanced perilously by narrow hips and stilt heels, but the true shape of a woman, curving in at the waist from rounded bosom and hips. A shape, at last, with balance.”

Glamor. The Magazine for Young Women. September, 1947 p. 33

Looking at photos of the models on the runways of the recent Sydney Fashion Week and Melbourne Fashion Festivals I was struck by how impossibly thin they all seemed. At an average of somewhere between 5’9” and 6’ in height and a dress-size of 6 to 8 (Australian , which converts to UK 4-6, US 2-4) the models represent a body type seen on only a tiny percentage of the wider population.

As the mother of daughters, I worry about the representation in today’s media of this waiflike body-type as an ideal.

It is a concern shared by some of the world’s fashion shows. In 2006, the Madrid Fashion Week organisers put a BMI (Body Mass Index) limitation on models taking part. As a result, five models were turned away.[1] Fashion shows in other parts of the world haven’t been so keen to act, mostly adopting voluntary guidelines.

Fashion models haven’t always been so thin. Before our time, in the 1930s and 1940s they were even what we would now describe as voluptuous.

The 1960s was one of the major turning points in the idealisation of being thin particularly following the rise in the career of Twiggy, a waifish fashion model who weighed just 90lbs (41kg)[2]. Studies of the way women are portrayed in the media have shown that models became taller and thinner between the 1960s and the 1980s.[3]

In the 1990s the ‘heroin chic’ aesthetic was adopted. Models looked thin, miserable and exhausted.

Nowadays, models are thin and sullen. Heaven help the catwalk model who cracks a smile.

Is it any wonder that teenage girls struggle with body image issues when the media surrounds them with images that are almost impossible to replicate (and that’s without even starting on the issue of the digital retouching of photos).

How do you think we could bring the happy, healthy body-type back into the mainstream media and the fashion industries?

[1] http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/europe/09/13/spain.models/index.html
http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,21232157-5001021,00.html

[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twiggy

[3] Body image: understanding body dissatisfaction in men, women, and children By Sarah Grogan. Published by Routledge, 1999
Accessed via: http://books.google.com/

(photos of Glamor magazine, September 1947)

Things my elders taught me: knitting

Today, it's the turn of another Before Our Time reader - The Mof- to share her memory of a skill learnt from our elders (parents, grandparents, teachers, friends...). If you would like to be added to the line-up, email on beforeourtime@bigpond.com - Megan and Alison.

My mother was a beautiful knitter and always seemed to have something on the needles. I expect she had to with a family of eight children- and in cold Scotland!

I was keen to learn this art and I distinctly remember learning to knit from my mother at the age of four. I had blue needles and burgungy wool. It was a challenge as I was left handed but I cottoned on quickly and learned to knit right handed.

My Mother had a little poem to teach children knitting which went:

"In the little bunny hole (needle into the front of the stitch)
Round the big tree (wool round back needle)
Out through the bunny hole (pull the loop through with point of needle)
And off goes she" (slip the stitch onto right hand needle)

I have used this myself when teaching children.

In primary school there was a syllabus of knitting which started at age seven. An itinerant sewing and knitting teacher came round our group of country schools. I think it was once a month as it took all year to complete each project. We were not allowed to take the project home until the end of the year - I can see why as I would have had it finished in a couple of weeks!

At the age of seven (my third year at school) we had to knit a pot holder. It was made of four 6 inch squares folded in diagonally to the centre and stitched, then padded with old towelling. The teacher then crocheted round the outside and made a loop to hang it up. (We were never taught how to crochet at school.)

At age eight we made a scarf with two colours alternating, in garter stitch. Mine was emerald green and scarlet. (I hope my colour sense has improved! )

At age nine it was time to learn purl (but of course with my early start I was well versed in that!) and we had to make mittens.

Age ten it was into socks, learning to turn a heel and graft the toe.

So by the age of eleven I was knitting cardigans and jumpers not only for myself but also for my little brothers.

The Mof, aged 10, wearing a cardigan she knitted herself.

It was dark brown in colour and had an all over pattern

of alternating plain and purl stitches making a raised texture.

I will be forever grateful that my mother was a knitter and had the patience and willingness to teach me the skill as, like her, I always have something on the needles even if it is just using up oddments for squares for charity blankets.

Arriving in outback Australia in the 1960s as a new bride was a culture-shock of a grand scale for a Scottish country lass, but The Mof took it all in her stride. She lives in a country town in Western Australia where she is involved with a variety of community groups. She loves to read blogs, but doesn't have one of her own (yet) and she hasn’t owned a dishwasher for nine years.

Diary of an E-Free Week: A week without TV, electronic games or computers.

From Sunday 19 April to Saturday 25 April, during our Autumn school holidays, my children had a week free from TV, electronic games and computers. After finishing the challenge I discovered my 10 and 8yo weren’t alone, a number of schools have tried TV-free weeks and anti-consumerist organisations have been campaigning for Digital Detoxing on the basis that we need to decrease our exposure to commercial branding.

Our E-Free week was not anti-consumerist but simply about re-connecting with the world around us. Many parents have told me an E-Free week would drive them crazy, that they couldn’t make dinner or vacuum the house without first putting their child in front of the TV. I know how they feel, I’ve been there too but it just doesn’t seem right. Likewise it seems we have the wrong end of the stick when we take our child to a restaurant or football game and give them an electronic game to keep them quiet. Electronic media as a dummy/pacifier is not a pretty picture. On this basis I just had to see how my children would behave without their dummies before I spat mine.

An E-free week has to make sense to you. For me it was about the TV, the games and the computer. For you it might be pulling the headphones from your teenager’s ears. For another friend it was about only using the computer while his children were asleep so he could pay them full attention while they were awake.

This was our experience.

Day 1: Sunday – Lego an inch thick over the living room floor

The beginning of E-free week got off to a rocky start when the children walked into our room at 6am and announced that they wouldn’t be participating and that they would forfeit their bribe incentive pay. An hour later they regretted their decision and we gave them a second chance. Miss 10 argued that her brother forfeited his reward because while he actually watched TV, she said the computer hadn’t finished logging in when the second chance was offered. We discussed the nature of intent, but Miss 10 was reluctant to drop the argument.

Miss 10 and I went with friends to a shopping mall and returned later that afternoon to see that my husband and Mr 8 had tipped all the Lego on the lounge floor and were sorting it by colour. We join them. Husband and I are enjoyed ourselves so much the children put themselves to bed and we continued sorting late into the night. Clearly we do not get out much.

Day 2: Monday – Lego and cubby houses

This is the first full day I spent with the children without the Pixel Nannies. I wondered who will crack first? Would I have to be ready with all manner of entertainments? I am simply not one of those mothers who organises craft activities for their children. I see craft as the school’s domain for perky teachers who think of nothing better than children up to their armpits in blue paint.

I needn’t have worried, thanks to my husband’s brilliant Lego forethought the children were up early still sorting the Lego. Being a strangely addictive practise, I found myself on the floor with them sorting the yellows and the greens.

Later that afternoon all was just a little quiet in the house – you know that eerie unnerving sort of quiet? A quick tour found the 8yo had built a small cubby in which he was sitting wrapped in a quilt reading. Last week he would’ve been zoned-out in front of the TV or begging to be taken to the video store. I smiled to myself.

We are a family that dines together but, increasingly, on the weekends I am whined at to allow them to eat their dinner in front of the TV. The result is children who only grudgingly drag themselves to the table. Without TV to absorb their attention neither child complained about coming to the dining table, in fact they offered to help set the table and stayed to help clear up without being asked.

Day 3: Tuesday – Still fighting but not bored yet.

Do you know what is conspicuous by its absence this week? The phrase “I’m bored”. Last week with the full range of electronic media as well as organised activities I heard that phrase almost constantly. The children were seemingly unable to drag themselves from the couch and nothing was to their satisfaction. Most days the children would watch one television each and not talk to each other, except to snap insults.

This week they quietly sought each other out. Not that they would admit to it. The fighting has not abated but at least they are fighting over whose turn it is on “Rush Hour” or who gets to hold the box of dark grey Lego pieces.

Day 4: Wednesday – a trip to the library counts as an exciting outing.

On Tuesday I mentioned that on Wednesday we would have pancakes for breakfast and visit the Library. The kids greeted this news with enthusiasm which goes to show what passes for an exciting outing when electronic games are not on the agenda.

An unhurried trip to the library is a wonderful thing when the kids can lie on the carpet in front of the shelves picking books out at leisure. Mr 8 has always been amused that you can walk out of a library with an armful of books without paying. By the end of the day he had read two short books.

In the afternoon I fired up the sewing machine and mended a couple of outfits that I’d been procrastinating about. Mr 8 sidled up to me to ask whether he can sew something too (!) A minute later he is sitting on the living room floor with a scrap of blue material happily sewing with bright red thread. Who would’ve thought?

Inspired, Miss 10 finds the beautiful wooden knitting needles she was given for her birthday last year and starts to knit a scarf. I didn’t want this electronic detox to end.

Day 5: Thursday – the sound of children reading
I woke up to the sound of children reading in the morning.

I reflected on how sometimes the systems that we parents put in place to make our lives easier can backfire on us. Five years ago we got Disney Channel so that the children could go downstairs to watch TV and leave us in peace on weekend mornings. We would allow them to watch TV until we got up. In the corporate world we would say that systems drive behaviour. That system drove them to wake up at increasingly early hours so that they maximised their viewing time and by Monday morning they were exhausted. This week without the lure of early morning TV the children have gravitated to relaxing in their beds with a book or audio CD and wake far more refreshed each day.

Day 6: Friday – Playdates for one child changed the dynamics
This day was always going to be a challenge. When the children have unfettered access to the electronics they tend to play on their own, often watching one TV each. This week they have sought each other out for companionship more often than I’ve seen in a long while. Today one child had a play date while the other didn’t and it really affected the dynamics of the week. In the past if one child had a playdate the other would watch TV or go on the computer, without that easy division of activities the child without the playdate felt lonely and left out. It struck me how we can use electronic media to silence or placate a child rather than deal with the social issue at hand.

Day 7: Saturday – Detox over.
What was I expecting? Probably that Mr 8 would wake up early and rush downstairs to get his fix of television. He did, but not before reading in bed for a while and asking our permission to go downstairs. Soon after turning on the TV he came upstairs again announcing that “there was nothing on TV” and turned on the computer. Miss 10 didn’t go near the TV until after lunch.

By mid-afternoon I could see that many of the same old usage patterns were creeping back. I don’t think the answer is to ban TV/gaming/computer use altogether but I certainly prefer the family dynamic when we are in detox mode.

Afterword
Our E-free week has been a resounding success. Without the lure of Disney, Nickelodeon or PlayStation my children reconnected with reading, with simple games, with the outdoors and with each other. Yesterday I spoke with two other local families who have been inspired to have their own E-Free Week and they have reported similar results. The striking thing about the week was how quickly my childrens’ behaviour changed. Unlike the Pantene ad, it did happen overnight.

I’d like our local primary school to instigate an E-Free Fortnight where children get sponsored to go without TV, electronic games or their computer in order to raise money for their school or a charity. Apart from the extra time gained to spend with their parents imagine children researching assignments by reading a book or going to the library just like in days before their time.

So who is going to join me for my next E-free week? I’m aiming for a week in the July school holidays. Readers without young children feel free to join in too. Oh, and grandparents ... could you deny your grandchildren the TV, or is that in the realms of 'grandma's treats'?

We will remember them

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

from 'For the Fallen' by Laurence Binyon (1869–1943)

In the early hours of this morning at Shrines of Remembrance, cenotaphs and war memorials around both Australia and New Zealand, men and women who have gone to war and returned, together with their families, friends and other members of the public gathered for dawn services to start another ANZAC Day.

ANZAC Day (April 25th) commemorates the landing of Australian and New Zealand troops at the beach in Gallipoli, Turkey on the morning of April 25th, 1915. It was the first major military action fought by Australian and New Zealand forces during the First World War. ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps.

The plan was to capture the Gallipoli peninsula to open the way to the Black Sea for the allied navies, but the Australian and New Zealand soldiers were greeted by strong resistance from the Turkish forces. The campaign dragged on for eight months and casualties were great. Over 10,000 ANZACs died and many more were wounded.

Many historians have argued that Gallipoli marked the end of innocence for the relatively new nation of Australia and the ANZAC legend became an important part of Australia's national identity.

However, ANZAC Day is not just a day to remember that morning in 1915, it is more generally a day of remembrance — of the deaths and consequences of war and of the bravery of our enlisted men and women who have not only fought wars, but have also carried out peacekeeping duties in various parts of the world. ANZAC Day also recognises that we carry with us the hope that one day, all the people of the world can live together in harmony without the need for conflicts.

As is often the case on a day of significance, a number of traditions have grown around the event: the dawn services, ANZAC Day marches, two-up schools, and of course, the ANZAC biscuit.

In our household, ANZAC Day approaching is always a reminder to dig out the recipe for ANZAC biscuits and whip up a batch. The biscuits are a great way to introduce the ANZAC story to children and talk about what ANZAC Day means while you mix up the ingredients.

The actual origins of the ANZAC biscuit are disputed, but the most likely story is that during World War I, when supply ships to the front line took about two months to reach their destination, the biscuits were developed (possibly from an old Scottish oatmeal biscuit recipe) to allow families at home to send tins of biscuits to supplement the soldiers meagre food rations. All the ingredients would last well over that period of time in an airtight container.

This year, I couldn't find my usual tried and tested recipe and ended up using the one from the NSW CWA (Country Women's Association) cookbook. The recipe is pretty standard no matter which version you use: the biscuits contain plain flour, rolled oats, coconut, sugar, butter, water, golden syrup and bicarbonate of soda.

It really is a simple enough recipe, but like the Gallipoli campaign itself, my biscuits this year were doomed.

I placed the first batch too close together on the baking tray and they had no room to spread. The formed a solid biscuit mass, and rose up like a sponge cake!

Hint no 1: Spread teaspoon sized amounts of the mixture well apart (over two baking trays) to allow for adequate spread.

I learnt from my mistake, and spaced the second batch well apart. When I looked at them in the oven after a few minutes cooking however, they hadn't spread at all. Hmmm. I checked the recipe. Ooops. I had forgotten the cup of sugar.

Hint no.2: Always double-check your ingredients

The third batch was looking good. All ingredients were present and accounted for, they were spread well apart and then slid into the oven on two trays for cooking, but instead of turning the dial on my oven to fan-forced, I put it on grill...

Hint no.3: Biscuits should be baked, not grilled.

As the smoke billowed through the house, I was able to save the lower tray, and cook it properly.


At last!

Golden, chewy ANZAC biscuits.

I don't know whether they would have lasted two months in a supply ship, as they didn't last more than a couple of hours in my house. That's one experiment I don't think I'll ever be able to achieve.

If you would like to make ANZAC biscuits (heeding the hints above, of course) there is a recipe here.

And for fascinating information about ANZAC Day and the ANZAC legend, check out:

Gallipoli and the ANZACs by the Department of Veterans' Affairs, or
ANZAC Day at the Australian War Memorial

Do you have ANZAC Day memories to share? What is the equivalent day in your country?