WOMEN of my generation were taught to cook, sew and launder – among the curricular of arithmetic and learning long poems by heart.

The intention of this exercise being that we were expected to get married and run homes in the future and, as wives and mothers, the expectation would be to provide delicious, economical, home- cooked meals, darn our husband's socks and know how to iron and fold a napkin!

We would also be expected to manage the housekeeping money and instruct our children in the joys of literature.

While some fell into the net, some escaped into rewarding careers which, for a while, provided the wherewithal to dine out and have others do the laundry. The clever ones trained their husbands into 'new men' and let them share the joys of motherhood and birthing.

Now, in the twilight of our years, we gratefully fall upon that early training as we select the cheap and tasty cuts of meat – the piece of brisket, neck of lamb, oxtail and scrag, and transform them into delicious meals to warm the winter days. And how we chuckle when, throwing the weekly wash into the washing machine and tumble dryer, we recall, the soaking, boiling, rinsing, blueing, wringing, hanging on the bushes and ironing in clouds of steam, the laundry during those formative years.

And oh, that neat needlework when we mended the lace on a pillow, and the careful darn to the errant sock! No wonder the landfill sites are overflowing. There must be thousands of holey socks, cuff -and-unturned-collared-shirts, and other perfectly good clothes that we once altered, rotting.

Watching the young, domestically-untrained lass in the supermarket trying to decide on chops, steak, fishfingers, burgers or a dubious take-away, according to her purse.

We can thank the day when we toiled over the right creases in a napkin, proudly bore home a stew for supper, offered the misshapenly-knitted gloves for a dwarf or a giant to dad as a present, and recalled that painstakingly -stitched pinnie once borne home in triumph after months of work and unpicking. I think the young women of today have missed something useful and constructive, although there is rumour – from those 'new men' (now ancient in government) that they want to bring it all back. Too late! Those of us who could teach the skills have forgotten them in the realms of old age and dementia.

And arithmetic? It's proved useful in trying to stretch the pension into corners it will not fit and we can still impress our friends with the poetry that helps keep us same in this disjointed world as we sing it in our minds during the long afternoon's repetitive soaps.

So, if some old lady is blocking the aisle in the supermarket with a faraway look in her eyes, she is probably remembering those halcyon days when life was a simpler and you knew what was expected of you.

Happy days!

Jean Brodie

Cinderford