There were some white bread sandwiches on the coffee table. They were butter with cucumber and butter with ham; cut into fours with the crusts neatly trimmed away; and neatly stacked on a beautiful old plate.
We devoured them all, and Mom put us too bed. I could hardly sleep, and when she left the room, I crept to the window to look out. As I look back, I know now why I liked that shot in Harry Potter so much. The one where he sits on a large stone window sill looking out through the frosted window of his new home high in the castle.
I didn’t need waking up the next morning, I was ready to go before anyone and waiting impatiently at the door. We went down the rickety stairs to the better stairs and found our way to the kitchen, where the maids were scurrying around the long table delivering breakfast to our house mates.
At that time, Wadenhoe House was managed by Mrs. Boothroyd (Mrs. B) and with two exceptions, all the rooms and suites were let out to military families. The exceptions were a Scot and a Pole (daddy's terms). The Scot, when in his cups, would change into kilts and serenade the whole house with his bagpipes whether they liked it or not. The Polish man was quiet and read a lot.
Mrs. B introduced us around the table, and asked how we liked our eggs. I watched as the cook cracked these huge eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork and milk before putting them into the large iron pan on the old wood stove that occupied half the wall at then end of the kitchen.
Later when Mom found out they were goose eggs, she never ate them again.
Next: Learning the alphabet in one day.