(My entry for ‘Violet’ is not a colour, but a Name!)
No one I have ever met neither before nor since could make bath time into a special event like my Auntie Violet could.
For this I thank her.
Violet and her girls
I think of her every day of my life as I dry between my toes.
Towelling between the toes must have been meant to take a certain calculated amount of time, as she always knew when you had rushed the job. Back you had to come and start again.
Girls growing up.
She was master of ceremonies to four little girls sitting in a row in the big bath in Bon Accord bathroom.
During the whole performance, sometimes a circus! From faces, to ears, to bottoms there were no short cuts allowed.
Each time when I would try to make my dripping exit, I was firmly told that I hadn’t finished; or she wasn’t finished with me.
Daddy with the two beautiful Coulter girls, Violet and Eleanor, my Mom
Out in the kitchen, my Mom, known as the Golden Girl was clattering the pots and pans into a meal which was always fit for a king (but it had to feed many mouths when two families were holidaying together).
For me that was the climax of the evening, I was always starving!
It was the appetizing aroma of boiled potatoes, carrots and Irish stew that drew me from that water annoying Auntie Violet. Her attractive face would redden and pucker with anger.
“Now, Betty, you’re a bold little girl!”
We were all pink and squeeky clean at the finale!
A family bound by blood, heritage and love. (not in that order!)
We lived in South Africa and they in Rhodesia.
This may be a little bit of trivia; a very understanding Uncle Bob knew of the importance of bath time to my lovely Auntie Violet; so he always waited. The length of him stretched out on the couch, overhanging with his six foot some inches, he waited.
Bob, the love of her life!
It was her time in the bathroom, far from the madding crowd.
A time for indulgence! and to dry between the toes.