Once upon a time and a very good time it was….
For this too is the lot of man…
Embroidered white linen is one of my fondest memories. I grew up swathed in beautiful white linen sheets, napkins, tablecloths. The alchemy of the starch, too much would make the napkins to stiff and painful to wipe ones mouth with. Too little and the would look limp and a crumpled easily. My mother’s breakfast tray, taken to her every morning. White linen doily, napkin, silver tea pot, toast and a grapefruit. Sometimes bacon and a boiled egg. Sliding your feet through a freshly made bed, with taught white, starched linen sheets. Pointy feet, to separate the bottom from the top sheet. A most sensuos feeling. Umm! How I loved the sound!
The best laundress she had was a very small albino woman with very heavy black shoes. She was so small, she had to stand on a stool to stir the enormous pot where the starch was cooked. The linen was immersed in the “brew” and then hung to dry in the sun. The laundry area was a large walled area with many lines. I only liked going when it was white linen laundry day. The white was resplendent in the sun, against the blue skies of the tropics. The promise of another beautifully set table. It never occurred to me until much later the strange juxtaposition of Belgian, Spanish, Portuguese linen in the tropical forest that surrounded Caracas.
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elenadomeque 