Even though we grew up on different sides of the world and different time periods, this post reminds me so deeply of childhood. I grew up in a small-working class area just outside Belfast in Northern Ireland. There were a few farms around about. We had a potato woman called Roberta who came door to door every other week, selling bags of spuds. Sometimes my granny would have money sitting on her telephone table near the front door and I would ask her if I could have it to go up to the shop to buys sweets. "No, it's for the potato woman," she'd say. No one called Roberta by her name - she was always just the 'potato woman.' Reminds me of your fruit man. ❤️ Also - for whatever your reasons are for being on Substack - I'm glad you're here, Bonnie xx
Even though we grew up on different sides of the world and different time periods, this post reminds me so deeply of childhood. I grew up in a small-working class area just outside Belfast in Northern Ireland. There were a few farms around about. We had a potato woman called Roberta who came door to door every other week, selling bags of spuds. Sometimes my granny would have money sitting on her telephone table near the front door and I would ask her if I could have it to go up to the shop to buys sweets. "No, it's for the potato woman," she'd say. No one called Roberta by her name - she was always just the 'potato woman.' Reminds me of your fruit man. ❤️ Also - for whatever your reasons are for being on Substack - I'm glad you're here, Bonnie xx
You had me at "telephone table"! Thanks so much for this warm note. Back acha. Love the connections I'm making here. They feel so true. xo