Kindheartedness

Kindheartedness Ellen had a lot of experience in washing nappies, six bairns in less than eight years. William Chapman had a lot to answer for. Everyone knew, or thought they knew, what poor Ellen had to put up with. His drinking, his womanizing, and, some said, his violent behaviour towards his uncomplaining wife. The other women in the village tried to lighten her load without appearing to pity her. That would never do. Grace, Isobel, and even Nancy left bits of worn soap and washing soda by the scrubbing board, and with Ellen being fourth in line, very often there was a good full boiler already warmed with her neighbour’s coal. Most miners’ wives had plenty coal, but Chappie was not above selling his allowance for beer money. The van men from the local co-op store were also heroes in this respect. Davie the butcher always made sure that the soup bones Ellen bought had more than the required amount of meat still clinging to them. Her half pound of mince got another dollop after it had been weighed and the odd sausage found its way into her meagre purchases. Then there was Jimmy the baker who... accidentally... squashed some bread so it was not fit to sell. Ellen’s brood did not mind squashed bread, it went well with the very slightly overripe bananas from Ben McCabe the fruit man. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Not sure if this will qualify as a poem on kindheartedness but kindheartedness is what it was in the 1940s