Category Archives: Growing up

Today I Made Soup

 “Beautiful soup! Who cares for fish, game or any other dish? Who would not give all else for two pennyworth of beautiful soup?”
   Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Those of you who know me or have read some of my earlier blogs will not be surprised by the heading of this one.  But today as I made soup it took me on another trip down memory lane.

Minestrone Soup

Picture from Two Peas & Their Pod

I got the recipe from Two Peas & Their Pod.  And once I have tried it I shall report on whether it tastes as good as it smells.  It certainly looks like the minestrone soup of my memory.

It was 1956 and I had recently left school to work in the American Express Company’s Freight Department as a secretary.  It was only some 11 years after the end of the Second World War and rationing had dragged on for many of those years.  As part of our salary (which we called wages in those far-off days), we were given Luncheon Vouchers.

Luncheon Vouchers sign

Image displayed in cafes and restaurants

Luncheon Vouchers were introduced in 1954 and were used to ensure that workers got a good meal in the middle of the day without companies having to provide their own canteens.  They were readily accepted in cafes and food bars, coffee shops and sandwich bars.  The image above was displayed so that you could easily identify where to use these vouchers.

It later transpired that LVs were being used for many other things.  The famous case of Cynthia Payne who was charged with keeping a brothel brought this to light.  “Payne first came to national attention in 1978 when police raided her home and found a sex party was in progress. Elderly men paid in Luncheon Vouchers to dress up in lingerie and be spanked by young women.”

There were many shops and establishments that didn’t sell food displaying the voucher sign.

Wardour Street, Soho

Image via WikiTravel

Well back to my memories.  The Haymarket is a short stroll to Soho.  At the time there was a number of small Italian cafes in the area and this is where we used our Luncheon Vouchers for lunch several times a week.  We were introduced to different soups including Minestrone with Parmesan cheese on top and pasta in its different forms.  All of these were very strange to our London tastes at the time.

So most days saw us having cappuccino coffee – a true luxury as coffee had been rationed during the war years – after our soup.  My parents weren’t particularly happy about my going to Soho with its reputation for prostitutes on every corner and of course, the Windmill Theatre, most (in)famous for its nude tableaux.  Very daring for the time. Did you see Dame Judi Dench in the movie “Mrs Henderson Presents” that was made about the Windmill?

And for me, Minestrone soup always takes me back to a little cafe in Wardour Street where young women used to meet and think we were so sophisticated.  Remember 18 year-olds at that time were very innocent.  Not nearly as worldly-wise as those of today.  With my sisters, I lived at home and we were quite tightly controlled by our parents as far as what was acceptable and what was not.  And what we were allowed to do.  How different it is today.

I understand that many companies still use Luncheon Vouchers for their staff.  Here in New Zealand if this were the case the company would have to pay Fringe Benefit Tax and that of course, is another story.

“Do you have a kinder, more adaptable friend in the food world than soup? Who soothes you when you are ill? Who refuses to leave you when you are impoverished and stretches its resources to give a hearty sustenance and cheer? Who warms you in the winter and cools you in the summer? Yet who also is capable of doing honor to your richest table and impressing your most demanding guests? Soup does its loyal best, no matter what undignified conditions are imposed upon it. You don’t catch steak hanging around when you’re poor and sick, do you?”
Judith Martin (Miss Manners)









Notes –
1. WordPress was playing up today.  I wrote this blog and then it disappeared into the ether never to be seen again.  So this is the second attempt. and
2.  I have tried the soup and it is delicious.  More memories to follow.



Fair Warning

stop sign

image from

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple with a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves and satin candles, and say we’ve no money for butter. 

I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells and run my stick along the public railings and make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain and pick the flowers in other people’s gardens and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat and eat three pounds of sausages at a go or only bread and pickles for a week and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes. 

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry and pay our rent and not swear in the street  and set a good example for the children. We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.  But maybe I ought to practice a little now? So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Do you know this poem by Jenny Joseph, English author and poet?  This is from another favorite book bought for me by my late husband.

Book cover

It sits in pride of place with the other two similar books.  I have written about Becoming the Woman I’ve Wanted  and have quoted from If I Had My life to Live Over.

Book coverBook cover

So please don’t ever say I didn’t warn you.  My children have always thought that I would grow old disgracefully and this particular poem has haunted them since I first heard it.

I hope you enjoy it.

Even More Memories

London panorama

London Panorama from St Paul’s Cathedral

“Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner that I love London so.  Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner that I think of her wherever I go. “Hubert Gregg, English songwriter,
BBC broadcaster, author and stage actor. (1914-2004)

I read this post from Monica’s Tangled Web and immediately was transported back in time to 1951.  This was shortly after the Second World War ended and Britain and her people were badly in need of some cheering up.

Large areas of London were still in ruins and redevelopment had hardly begun.  The powers that be thought a festival would give Britons a feeling of recovery and progress.  Labour Deputy Leader Herbert Morrison one of the instigators of the Festival, described it as a ‘tonic for the Nation”.

“As we look forward to the year 1951, each of us can share in the anticipation of an event which may be outstanding in our lives. The motives which inspire the Festival are common to us all – pride in our past and all that it has meant, confidence in the future which holds so many opportunities for us to continue our contribution to the well-being of mankind, and thanksgiving that we have begun to surmount our trials.” King George VI, 1949

The south bank of the Thames was decided as the perfect place for the Festival as large areas had been demolished during the Blitz and building began to take shape.  Much was written and told about the wonders.  And to a very young girl, they were wonders.

I clearly remember the Skylon.  A futuristic-looking, slender, vertical, cigar-shaped steel structure seeming to float above the ground.  All that held it in place were those thin wires.  We all thought it was magical.

But it was controversial with some claiming it to be dangerous and apparently, questions were asked in Parliament regarding the danger to visitors from lightning-strikes to the Skylon, and the papers reported that it was duly roped off at one point, in anticipation of a forecast thunderstorm.


I think the Dome of Discovery was the centrepiece of the Festival and it dominated the site.  Together with the needle-like Skylon it became the instant visual symbol of the Festival.

King George VI, Queen Elizabeth and their daughters the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret rose attended the opening of the Festival with 14,000 invited guests.  The Festival was opened to the public the next day.  Here is a British Pathe recording of the day.   It’s very crackly but if you can ignore that it really is a piece of history.

Festival of BritainThe Festival was a resounding success even though some criticised the event as a waste of public money.  The South Bank exhibitions attracted 8.5 million visitors in five months.

In spite of its popularity with the public, the cost of dismantling and re-erecting the Skylon elsewhere (£30,000—£642,979 as of 2011) was deemed too much for a government struggling with Post-War austerity.

The exhibition was dismantled in 1952 and the Skylon was removed and common lore has it that it was thrown into the River Lea.   However, after a public outcry, it was revealed that both the Skylon and the Dome of Discovery were dismantled and sold for scrap.  In any event a truly ignominious end to such symbols of our future.

And this year the 60th Anniversary of the Festival of Britain is being celebrated.  According to the Guardian Newspaper “To pay homage to the event that helped usher London and the rest of Britain out of the postwar doldrums, the Southbank Centre is hosting a four-month jamboree boasting everything from gardens sprouting from the concrete buildings to a museum chronicling the original festival.”

How clear it all is in my memory.  And how exciting for the young children who had known only the deprivations of living through a war.  Suddenly there were celebrations and excitement.  Wonderful.

“But now the days grow short,  I’m in the autumn of my years and I think of my life as vintage wine from fine old kegs,  from the brim to the dregs.  It pours neat and clear.  It was a very good year.”  So sang Frank Sinatra – It was a very good year.


Pounds, Shillings and Pence

“The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.” Edward Lear 1812 – 1888, British poet and painter known for his absurd wit.

Front page The Owl and the pussycat

I thought about this subject when writing about shopping when I was growing up.  Mother had a change purse always full of coins.  But that didn’t mean she had plenty of money – just plenty of coins as did all housewives.

White five pound note

Bank of England Note

When I was young and until 1971, the British currency was pounds, shillings and pence – shown as the above image for pound, s for shillings and d for pence.  So if an item cost two pounds, three shillings and sixpence it would be shown as £2.3s.6d.

There were 12 pennies to a shilling and 20 shillings to a pound.  the currency was further divided as two halfpennies (pronounced hapennies) and four farthings to each penny.

Shilling coinThe shilling was known colloquially as a bob.  this was then divided into 2 and we had 2 sixpences and the sixpences were further divided into 2 and we had threepenny pieces – known as threpenny bits.

We also had the half-crown which was worth two shillings and sixpence and the florin that was worth two shillings.  With so many coins no wonder women’s change purses were always full.

Ten bob note

The Bank of England produced bank notes.  There were one pound notes and ten shilling notes, the equivalent of half a pound, five pound notes and very rarely one might see a ten pound note.  The five pound note shown above was on very flimsy paper and quite large – 195mm x 120mm.  Because they were comparatively rare one had to sign on the back of the note when offering it for tender.

Most of the banks in Scotland produced their own notes and this caused further problems as often they weren’t recognized in England.  I remember having to go to my bank to have the Scottish note from the Royal Bank changed into a Bank of England note.  Occasionally, if the Scottish note was accepted one was given only 19/6d (nineteen shillings and 6 pence – pronounced nineteen and six) for it.

Royal Bank of Scotland note

When decimal currency was introduced in 1971 it caused quite a stir.  Some older people and my Father was one of them although at that time he was only 59 but did seem old to me – claimed that they were being swindled by the Government.  There had been two hundred and forty pence to the pound and now there were only two hundred.

No wonder visitors to our shores were confused.  But growing up with this currency made us all very adept with figures.  Any child could tell you almost instantly how many pennies or shillings in a pound and then extrapolate this out into further sums.

Decimal coins

From my collection

I was not in the UK when decimalisation was introduced but my parents purchased a set of coins for each of my children.

The coins have since been changed again.  The two pound coin introduced for use in 1971 was withdrawn and some of the sizes have changed.

I am sure that our British blogging friends can tell us more about this.

And here endeth yet another meandering blog.  Are you still awake out there or have I bored you to tears?

And my Mother always quoted to us the old proverb

“Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.”

Note – Unless otherwise stated photos from Google Images.

















Judith Baxter, Platinum Author Registered & Protected

Today’s Specials

Nostalgia is like a grammar lesson:  you find the present tense, but the past perfect!  ~Owens Lee Pomeroy, 1929-2008  Co-founder of the Golden Radio Buffs of MD

“Judith, 3852 specials at Woolworths Churchill Dr” This was the subject of an email in my inbox today.  It made me think about the things we now buy and think we can’t live without.  So what are some of the 3852 specials for this week?

The specials include a whole range of grocery items, vegetables and fruits and some homeware items.  This made me think of how shopping used to be.

As you may know, I grew up in London during and after the Second World War.  There were no supermarkets and Mother shopped each day.  We didn’t have a refrigerator until I was into my teens.  We had several ‘things’ to keep milk and butter cold.  They were made of clay and shaped to go around either the milk bottle or the butter.  They were soaked in cold water prior to use and then as they dried out they kept the milk or butter fresh.

Milk bottles

photo – Dreamstime

Of course, milk was delivered each day and Mother shopped every day so there was little chance of either the milk or butter turning.

Meat and bread were also bought each day.  Our local butcher was Mr Ives and during the war, for a time Mother worked in the shop stamping the ration books.

Ration books

via Wikipedia

Obviously, all these years later I don’t have a photo of that butcher’s shop but it is very clear in my memory.  The meat was on show hanging on hooks suspended from the ceiling.  There was, of course, a cold room out back but as there was very little choice of meat at the time, it was mostly all out front on show.  I can still remember the smell of the shop.  It had sawdust on the floor and this is the smell that reminds me of the butcher.

The area in which we lived had a large percentage of Jewish people living there.  So we had some of their specialities to try.  The local deli had a large barrel of rollmops just inside the door.  What a lovely smell and what memories that smell evokes.  And the baker baked bread every day.  You could smell his shop from a distance.  Mmm ..lovely.  And not just the usual white bread.  He baked challah daily and as we were part of a Jewish family, we also bought our matzos there.

Hovis logo

Logo via Wikipedia

He baked wholemeal bread long before brown or other grain bread was readily available.  Mother though preferred Hovis.  This was (and I think it is still available) a brown bread loaf baked with high wheatgerm wholemeal flour.

But we girls, of course, preferred the daily baked, hot white, crusty bread that came from the baker.  I think he was Mr Smulevitch although that may well have been the name of the delicatessen owner.

The greengrocer also had to be visited most days because everything that was bought had to be carried home.  Mother, of course, didn’t have any means of transporting the shopping except by hand.  I didn’t particularly like this shop because the door was never closed and it was always cold in there.  And it was dirty and untidy.  Vegetables such as carrots, potatoes and other root vegetables were not even brushed before being put into the large crates from which they were sold.  Vegetables were weighed using large balance type scales and then put straight into mother’s shopping bag.  She, of course, had a bag for vegetables as they all went straight into it.  No plastic bags or even paper bags then.

scales for potatoes

And of course, only fruit and vegetables in season were available then.  How different are things today.

And we didn’t have dollars and cents then or even the current GBP.  We bought things using pounds, shillings and pence.  Twelve pennies made one shilling, twenty shillings made one pound.  Pennies were further broken down into half-pennies (hapenies) and farthings (quarter pennies).   The subject of this currency will make a great blog someday.

This blog is meandering on as usual.  I shall close here but oh, I have so many things I should like to share with you about growing up in London.

I found the following quote when looking through The Quote Garden –  When I can’t find just what I want in my books I turn to this site.  And because I didn’t know of Doug Larson I looked him up on Wikipedia that other stalwart of researchers.

Nostalgia is a file that removes the rough edges from the good old days.  ~
Doug Larson










Down Memory Lane aka Streeet Markets

“Memories, light the corners of my mind
Misty watercolor memories of the way we were.
Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
smiles we give to one another
for the way we were…”

Isn’t it great how reading what one of our blogging friends writes leads us off into worlds of our own?

One of my blogging friends Hallysan (sorry I don’t know her name in the real world) wrote today about haggling.  See her post here.  While I do occasionally go to the market here I was instantly transported back to Saturday markets when I was growing up in the east end of London.

Road sign

Our particular market was Ridley Road in Dalston.  Way back then there were very few immigrants in the area and consequently we didn’t have the diversity of produce and products that are on sale now.  Saturday was the main market day and this is when mother and her three daughters did the shopping.  Remember, there were no supermarkets then and before going to the market we went to Sainsbury’s or the Co-op to do the grocery shopping.

Ridley Road Market

via Telegraph UK

After buying the butter, cheese, tea and other necessities for the week, we made our way to The Market.  This was a loud, lively place with stallholders (costermongers) calling out attracting us to buy their wares.  Shortly after the second world war ended there was no great variety.  Vegetables and fruit in season that had to be weighed by the stallholder.  Pat Cryer talks about this in detail.  Visit her website and I have talked about shopping when I was growing up in an earlier blog.

On Sundays, after father returned from the war he would take us to Petticoat Lane or the Lane as it was called by those of us who lived nearby.

Again, remember this was shortly after the war ended and there were very few tourists or immigrants.  The stalls were all manned or womaned by true Londoners with their cockney accents, calling out to see what they had on offer. And they had great things – “Look here Luv. Look at this lovely dinner set.  I’m not asking you ten pounds not even eight pounds – OK you can have it for a fiver (five pounds).  Can’t say fairer than that.  Can I?”.  What characters they were.


Logo via Wikipedia

If you have ever seen the BBC sitcom “Only Fools and Horses” you will get some idea of these characters.

There was a wide variety of things for sale from clothes, dinnerware and other china, ornaments to puppy dogs, cats and birds and everything in between.  This was an exciting time for three little girls out with their father who had been away for so long.  Mother was always left behind to make Sunday lunch and even writing this I can smell that lunch when we returned.  We were usually cold and always excited from this trip out with Father.

Petticoat Lane is a great favourite of tourists to London now and not to be missed but it has changed and expanded since we were three little girls.

“Can it be that it was all so simple then
or has time rewritten every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
tell me would we? Could we?”

There were several other markets in the area but these were the two we regularly visited.

Many years later I returned to both these markets.  How they have changed.  They are of course and because of the immigrants, both more international and many of the stallholders call out attracting folk to their stalls but the accents are no longer all cockney.

“Memories, may be beautiful and yet
what’s too painful to remember
we simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter we will remember
whenever we remember
the way we were.”

Doesn’t Barbra Streisand singing Memories say it all?  It does for me.












Welcome Wednesday

“You don’t choose your family.  They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.” Desmond Tutu

Do you have a favourite day of the week?  For many of course, it is one of the weekend days when one can relax with family and friends after a week of working.  But for me,  there are two favourites. Mondays afternoons are spent with grandsons Nos 3 and 4 whilst Wednesdays are spent with grandson No 1. Grandson No 2 is away at school.


James on his 16th birthday

I have written before about Wednesday.  How I spend time with my eldest grandson, have dinner with the family and then relax with them for a couple of hours usually watching their favourite programs on TV.

And Wednesday afternoon, before his mother and father return home, is the only time I have with a grandson alone.  Whenever I see any of my other grandsons their mother or father is with them.  So this is a special time.

Sometimes we have to go to the mall to pick up whatever ingredient I don’t have for dinner, or perhaps James has to have something for school or sometimes, we just go for ice cream.  Little things but important.  Last week when I was looking for carrots in the supermarket, James found them and told me that I couldn’t function without him.  Another comment to remember to bring up at his 21st?

The family lives in an old farmhouse about 45 km from me.  It is a rambling house with large rooms and open fireplaces.  It sits on 6 acres with pine forest meandering up the hill.  So plenty of wood for the fireplaces, and wonderful places for the two boys to play when they were little.   The property was purchased by my son and his wife to be closer to us when my husband was still alive – only about 10kms away – so that we would see more of our first two grandchildren.  Unfortunately, just three months after they moved in, Granpa died and shortly thereafter, Granma moved into town.  So the best-laid plans….

Back to Wednesdays.  Recently this 16-year-old has become quite talkative.  Does that mean he has passed through the monosyllabic teenage time?  And last Saturday was the school ball.  No doubt he will have lots to tell me today about that, or possibly not.

There has been a tragedy in Auckland. A schoolboy died after attending the school ball.  So there were quite stringent rules in place for James’ school ball.  All pupils were going to be breathalysed before entering the hall.  One wonders why they didn’t do this at the Auckland school as only last year there had been a case of another boy who died after drinking a bottle of vodka at a party.  Teenage booze drinking is apparently rife here in New Zealand and moves to stop or at least contain the drinking seem to have no effect.  Perhaps this latest tragedy will bring home the seriousness to our young.

So what will we do today?  Sometimes we go for a walk up through the trees at the back of the house.  This is a magical place and a magical time for me.  James has produced a pair of sports shoes for me – somebody bought them for his birthday and they are too small so he gave them to his Granma for our walks.Sport shoes It has been very wet recently so maybe a walk is off the cards.  A trip to the mall will probably be called for although James is always concerned that we don’t spend too much money – a budding economist do you think? And then we will return home where James will no doubt light the fire in the living room and we will spend time together just chatting, or most likely me reading while he does whatever he does on the computer.

So to anybody else, Wednesday is just another day but to me it is special.

And I recently discovered the writings of Ruth Goode.  She was an author who wrote about many disparate things such as the scenic attractions of Maine, advancements in medicine and the life of the impresario Sol Hurok under the title “Impresario”.

“Our grandchildren accept us for ourselves, without rebuke or effort to change us, as no one in our entire lives has ever done, not our parents, siblings, spouses, friends – and hardly ever our own grown children”.  Ruth Goode, 1905 – 1997 American author.

So as usual, I have rambled off the subject and will be back tomorrow with more thoughts and ramblings of this ancient brain.










Judith Baxter, Platinum Author Registered & Protected

New shoes, red and pink and blue shoes

Age shouldn’t affect you. It’s just like the size of your shoes – they don’t determine how you live your life! You’re either marvellous or you’re boring, regardless of your age.  Steven Morrissey, English singer and lyricist. 1959

When I read today’s post from Susan at Coming East I immediately was transported back in time to those far distant days when getting new summer sandals was a treat.


We had sandals rather than sneakers.  But we also had plimsolls.  These were canvas topped shoes on rubber soles and only came in white.  At our school, where the school colours were brown and yellow (really!) the plimsolls had to be dyed brown for PE.   I don’t remember how this feat was achieved, but I do know that Mother had to perform this miracle for all three of her daughters on a regular basis.

White plimsollIn addition to the brown plimsolls, we were required to have a white pair for tennis.  So six pairs of plimsolls were bought in our house on a fairly regular basis.

Plimsolls (or plimsoles) apparently were developed as beachwear in the 1830s by the Liverpool Rubber Company later to be known as Dunlop Rubber.

This then brought me to my party piece.  I have always had a penchant for performing (or showing off as my sisters used to say) and reciting poetry was my chosen form of showing off.  I also had the ability to remember long verses of poetry and many and often were our relatives bored (aka entranced and delighted) with my recitations.

So here now is my favourite, Choosing Shoes by Frida Wolfe :

Pink shoes

“New shoes, new shoes,
Red and pink and blue shoes.
Tell me, what would you choose,
If they’d let us buy?

ShoesBuckle shoes, bow shoes,
Pretty pointy-toe shoes,
Strappy, cappy low shoes;
Let’s have some to try.

Bright shoes, white shoes,
Dandy-dance-by-night shoes,
Perhaps-a-little-tight shoes,
Like some? So would I.

Processed by: Helicon Filter;

BUT Flat shoes, fat shoes,
Stump-along-like-that shoes,
Wipe-them-on-the-mat shoes,
That’s the sort they’ll buy.”

Of course, the more I performed the more I added movement and voice changes/modulation to this poem.  And I still can be called upon to recite it in the company of good friends, when we have all had a couple of drinks.

And “Give a girl the correct footwear and she can conquer the world” Bette Midler

Red Shoes

“Give a girl the correct footwear and she can conquer the world” Bette Midler


I Just Love Quotations

I love quotations because it is a joy to find thoughts one might have, beautifully expressed with much authority by someone recognized wiser than oneself.  Marlene Dietrich 1901 – 1992. German actress and singer.

If you have read any of my posts you will know the truth in the comment – I just love quotations.  One can always find just the right thing to say that has already been said so well by somebody else.

I have always carried a notebook with me to write down things I think of and hear during the course of the day.  And the quest for quotations has filled many happy hours and many books.  From these little notebooks, I have a wide range of quotations to use in my blogs and occasionally in the course of conversation.

A well-chosen and well-placed quote in conversation often fools the listener into thinking that I am a well read, highly intelligent person.  You can fool some of the people all of the time….

Dad and me

A girl with her Dad

One of my particular favourite quotes is from Somerset Maugham and was first quoted to me by my father when I was very young.

The ability to quote is a serviceable substitute for wit.  ~Somerset Maugham

I understand it and take it on board but it makes no difference to my love of quotations, my collecting of them and use of them.

Now of course, there is the internet so that if my collection doesn’t hold a particularly apt quote I can instantly rectify that.  But for me, the internet will never take the place of my collections of books holding poetry, verse and quotations that I can use as often and as regularly I wish.

So Father dear, wherever you are now that I can no longer speak to you, thank you for pointing out the Somerset Maugham quote.  My question is if he quoted on quotations then do we still call his a quote and in the context of this quote can we assume that he is short of wit?

And I like this one –

If you’re being run out of town, get in front of the crowd and make it look like a parade.  ~Author Unknown














Motherlove, Monsters, Mayhem and Maybe Murder

“A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.”
— Agatha Christie, DBE, 1890 – 1976), British crime writer of novels, short stories, and plays. 

I discovered Martie Hevia and her blog a couple of weeks and I look forward to reading it each day.  It is a gentle blog filled with fun, memories and of course,  Martie’s voice singing her songs.

A couple of days ago the tone of her blog changed and she wrote about Caylee Marie Anthony, the toddler who disappeared and whose Mother didn’t report her missing for thirty-one days.  What kind of Mother-love is demonstrated here?

The Mother has apparently made all kinds of claims to the Police, all of which appear to be lies and now she is claiming that the child drowned in the grandparents’ swimming pool.

Whether this Mother murdered her child will come out in the days ahead.  But her callousness towards that lovely little girl cannot be ignored.

Maslow's Hierarchy

We know that Mazlow determined that the basic needs of any human being included physiological, safety, belonging and love,  and esteem.  Which of these were given to this little child?  A child needs to be loved and cared for.  To know that she is important to her parents and family, to be warm and safe.  Apparently none of these things applied to this little girl.

We can’t get the live CNN feed here but Martie gives it on her blog.

We know that one is innocent until proven guilty but all the signs are there that this Mother is implicated in some way with her baby’s disappearance and death.

I shall leave it there for the jury to decide after they sit through what will  obviously, be a harrowing experience.

And for Caylee –

Teddy bear

RIP Littlre One