Gingering things up …

When I first married in 1956 I left my job in London and went to work with a firm of solicitors in Southend. This saved both the expense and the time spent commuting. The office came as a bit of a shock – I was a secretary and had been quite high-powered in London – I was employed to work for the Senior Partner in the firm I was joining but, somewhat foolishly, I had not asked to see my office. `My` office – hah! I was set to work in a large room with about eight other girls – all banging away busily on their manual typewriters – what a racket! The noise came to an abrupt halt when I lit up my first office cigarette of the day – shocked faces peering over their machines and one spoke `We don`t smoke in here…` Oh dear – I apologised and learned to either have a quick puff in the lavatory or wait until lunch-time.
I soon got used to working with others – they were nearly all in the same situation as me – newly married young women – busy homemaking (and some baby-planning). The office chit-chat was very domestic. We swapped recipes, knitting and dressmaking patterns, books, magazines and plants.
One day someone asked `Would anyone like a gingerbeer plant?`. `Oh yes please` I replied – thinking it would keep my rather straggly spider and castor oil plants company. The girl said she would bring it in next day.
Next day arrived and she made her way up the office to my desk clutching … no – not a nice, green houseplant but a jamjar filled with an awful-looking brown sludge slurping murky liquid on the top. My face fell as she thrust this object into my unwilling hand – `It`s a gingerbeer plant` she said brightly, `I`ve typed up the instructions for you` and handed me a piece of paper from which I learned that this thing had to be fed daily with sugar and ginger and then, after a week strained off and the sediment halved – you gave the other half to an unsuspecting friend, colleague or mug. It must have been my turn that week!
Well I persevered and, to be fair, the gingerbeer did taste good but I soon ran out of friends and people began avoiding me in case I should thrust a jar into their unsuspecting hand whilst passing. I resorted to tipping half the sludge down the sink each week – feeling like a murderess and so terribly guilty. In the end the whole lot was washed down the drain. `Freedom` I screamed – looking at the place in the kitchen where the tyrant had sat, demanding to be fed daily, for weeks.
Why has this topic come to mind? Well I am fairly new to WordPress and entered it at a comparatively fallow time of the year so was able to write and contribute daily – my loyal followers increased and my `Likes` grew – I was feeding them daily (like the gingerbeer plant!) This morning, for the first time no visits – zilch – nothing. No stats. Few comments. No new followers. 😦 As I have said, George has been unwell for nearly two weeks (and thank you all for your good wishes) and I have been busy with things domestic (he usually does the shopping and cooking), in addition I run an art group on a Tuesday and attend another group on a Thursday (that ensures that I paint at least twice a week!) I am also in the early stages of organising the art side of an Art & Flower Festival in the church in May, our own art club exhibition in April, going to headquarters of the Society for All Artists next week to make a video clip to go on my SAA website and we are off on a housesit for nearly three weeks …
I have been a little too busy and neglected my WordPress Gingerbeer plan! It, too, needs regular feeding to thrive.