Happy memories of past lives

These letters are in response to an editorial by Julie Eley asking readers for their thoughts on the way we used to live. John Bentley wins the six-month subscription to TV Guide.

I grew up in Zimbabwe (Southern Rhodesia back then) where my parents were farmers about 100km out of town. As a toddler, my home was a ‘rondavel’ – a glorified mud hut – where the worst sin was to lean against the wall. My father subsequently fired the bricks to build our home where we lived happily for many years. To start with there was no electricity, we used paraffin lamps at night, and hot water was obtained via a 44 gallon drum heated by a wood fire. Venomous snakes were a fact of life, and a snake bite medical kit was permanently available on the mantelpiece in the sitting room. I didn’t see electric light until I was nearly seven when I was packed off to boarding school (that’s another story). It was a simple and uncomplicated childhood which I look back on with fondness and very happy memories. John Bentley (Dunedin)

I was born before WWII and grew up during the war time and the time when Britain struggled to recover from WWII. We lived in a small town/village on the border of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire in an old stone farmhouse built around 1700. We had no electricity, the house was heated by a coal fire and the toilet was at the bottom of the yard. During the war dad, who was a coal miner, kept pigs, hens, ducks, geese and rabbits, all for food, and he had a large vege garden. Almost all the produce from the garden and animals were taken by the Ministry of Food. My older sister and I had jobs to do even before we started attending school. Dad had made a trolley for us and we would go around the village shops getting any waste which went into the pig bin to help feed the animals. For a small four-year-old, out pushing that trolley was hard work but it was our job. A Jackson (Lower Hutt)

I have to agree with you how our lives have changed, especially as a child growing up in the 50s. We were so used to cooking on a wood and coal range, that my Mum did not have an electric stove until my parents moved, when she was in her 60s, and she had to adapt and learn all over again. I remember when we finally did not have to use the indoor or the outdoor safe as we had a refrigerator. We are so lucky with all the mod cons today and we still don’t seem to have enough time. L Jackman

Pat Brown recalls the dangers of a late night trip to the outside loo.

I had narrowly missed treading on a hedgehog, the animal was only saved from injury by torchlight. Onwards and the object of my travels was reached, the purpose of my excursion was almost accomplished, when to my absolute horror, as I regained my feet, the 12-inch long, 6-battery silver torch, my brother’s pride and joy, took on a life of its own and started to roll across the seat towards that gaping black hole. Does one stop in the middle of attaining modesty or make an unseemly grab for the silverware which had begun its unstoppable journey towards the depths of definitely No Return. I chose the former, concluding that facing the torch owners wrath was preferable to witnessing the final extinguishing of what had been such a comforting glow. Pat Brown (Westport)