"Brown,.Mary.-.Unicorn's.Ring.2.-.1994.-.Pigs.Don't.Fly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Mary)

in my father's cloak, thinking my own thoughts, dreaming my own dreams, where
witches and dragons, princes and treasure could make me forget chilblains or a
runny nose until it was time for Mama to call me back into the warmth and the
comfort of honey-cakes and mulled wine in front of the fire.
Then Mama would sit in her great carved chair in front of the blazeЧa chair so
heavy with age and carving it couldn't be movedЧa queen on her throne, me
crouched on a cushion at her feet, my head against her knee, and if she were in
a good mood she would talk about Life and all it held in store for me.
"You will be all I could never be," she would say. "For you I have worked and
planned so that you may have a handsome husband, a home of your own, and a dress
for every season...."
That would be luxury indeed! Just imagine, for instance, a green dress for
spring in a fine, sort wool, a saffron-yellow silk for summer, a brown worsted
for autumn and a thick black serge for winter with fresh shifts for each. .'.. A
man who could afford those for his wife would have to be rich indeed, and live
in a house with an upstairs as well as a downstairs. Even as I listened the
dresses changed colour in my mind's eye as quick as the painted flight of the
kingfisher.
Mania's planning for me had been thorough indeed. On a Monday she entertained
the miller, who kept us regularly supplied with flour and meal for me to
practice my pies, pastry and cakes; Tuesday brought the clerk with his scraps of
vellum and inks for me to form my letters and show my skills with tally-sticks;
on Wednesday Mama spent two hours with the butcher and once again I practiced my
cooking. On Thursday the visit of the tauor-cum-shoemaker gave me pieces of
cloth and leather to show off my stitching; Friday brought the Mayor, who was
skilled with pipe and tabor so I could display my trills and taps and on a
Saturday the old priest listened to me read, heard my catechism, and took our
confessions.
Sunday was Mama's day off.
PIGS DON'T FLY 5
She had other visitors as well, of course, besides her regulars. The apothecary
came once a month or so, sharing with us his wisdom of herbs and bone-setting,
the carpenter usually at the same interval, teaching me to recognize the best
woods and their various properties, and how to repair and polish furniture. The
tnatcher showed me how to choose and gather reeds for repairing the roof, the
basketmaker, also an accomplished poacher, instructed me in in both his crafts.
All in all, as Mama kept telling me, I must have been the best educated girl in
the province, and she covered any gaps in my education with her own knowledge.
It was she who taught me plain sewing, cooking and cleaning, leaving the
refinements to the others. She insisted that as soon as I was big enough to
wield a broom, lift a cooking-pot or heat water without scalding myself, that I
kept us fed, clean and washed, and throughout the year my days were full and
busy.
During the spring and summer I would be up before dawnЧtaking care not to wake
MamaЧand into the forest, cutting wood, fetching water, looking to my traps,
gathering nerbs and then home again to collect eggs, feed the hens, and weed the
vegetables. Then I would milk the nanny and lay and light the fire, mix the
dough for bread, sweep the floor and empty the piss-pot in the midden, so that
when Mama finally woke there was fresh milk for her and a scramble of eggs while
I made the great bed and heated water to wash us both; then I changed her linen,