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I Know I was Born a Miniaturist Because

part 2

It seems that the older I get, the more I think about my childhood. I am one of those people who have vivid memories of childhood. Most of my memories are very good, and quite a few of them reveal, that I was born a miniaturist. It is not a hobby I adopted, like my other hobbies. It is embedded in me somewhere. I have always had a fascination for anything tiny.
This little tale about... ' why I know I was born a miniaturist' ...happened the Christmas my brother and I had the measles. I believe I was about three and a half, I was still sleeping in a cot/crib. We had been cooped in a darkened room for quite a while so it was extra magical to be brought downstairs on Christmas day.

I remember only the evening. We were in our front room, which was seldom used, there was a fire lit, and it was warm and cozy and nice. My parent’s best friends were there, Ettie and Bib, and everyone was happy. We had a small Christmas tree which was decorated and had tiny little candles in little holders. That was the one and only time that the candles were ever lit. Some one picked me up to see , it looked so beautiful and magical. It didn't last long. The adults were all anxious about the danger of a fire they had a pail of water on hand, but it is memory burned in my brain.

After the candles were blown out my mum brought out a little cardboard house with cotton wool snow on the roof. There was a large chimney on the house with a lot of strings coming out of the roof. Everyone in the room got to pull on a string and attached was a tiny inexpensive gift. This was a family tradition that my mum kept going for many years, the little house became quite beat up. It was kind of a bittersweet activity because it signaled that Christmas day fun was almost over.

I can only recall what Uncle Bib pulled out of the chimney, I can remember it so well, because I wanted it so badly. He had pulled out of the chimney a tiny wee blue plastic bathtub, about an inch and a half long, with a tiny wee nude lady in it. It was probably meant to be a joke gift for the adults. It was so small and cute, oh my, I wanted it so much. I found it enchanting.

Here was the dilemma. Uncle Bib hadn’t noticed my interest in it. I knew if I asked Uncle Bib for it, he would be happy to give it to me. I also knew that to ask for anything was a really big no-no. I didn't ask, and I didn't get.

But I remembered it, and tried later to wheedle it from him without actually asking for it. I spent a lot of time at Ettie and Bib's house, especially at teatime, Ettie made delicious marmalade tarts. Uncle Bib would come home from work and sit down in the armchair with the newspaper and a cup of tea. I remember crawling up on his knee and whispering in his ear ‘‘Remember the lady in the bathtub?''

What must he have thought? He didn't have the slightest clue about what I meant.My big hint didn’t work, he just rattled the newspaper and went on reading, and I never saw the tiny wee bathtub again.
More than 50 years later I have not forgotten about it.

I Know I was Born a Miniaturist Because

part 1

part 3

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