Coal flowers and knucklebonesthose were the good old days

Press, 16 August 1980, Page 16

Coal flowers and knucklebonesthose were the good old days

By

ROBYN JENKIN

~ -"‘Coal, flowers? You’ve grit to be joking!” \ So read the item in the Reporter’s Diary... Really, it is no joke. In fact, it is all . rather sad, . because coal flowers belong to a time that has gone. They belong to a. time when a jungle gym was the nearest climbable tree, whistles were made of willow and not plastic, and knucklebones came, from the butcher’s, shop. I have to be very careful ; these days not to remi-, nisce too much or my children will tell me for the umpteenth time, that it’s a sure sign of old age. And I don’t need reminding.

But, honr:tly, there are some things our children just don’t know. Important thihgs -like making a 'whistle, or a top, or colouring knucklebones, I hope you notice the operative word — making, .not buying. Mind you, some of these things a-re not very e:.sy to make any more,- as I have found to my cost.' After filling them with as enthusiasm equal only to my own, I have begun to look for the bits and pieces to make a particular item — and found nothings The children have raised their eyes heaven-

wards and wandered outside, m.uml?li:.g that Murii has blown it again.

-Like the time I .tried to make one of those buzzing buttons on a string. In my mother’s or grandmother’s button, bag there was always, one of those large, old, overcoat buttons, and of course there was a reel of linen th-rcud to buzz the button on. When I came to make a buzzing button for my children I found my button bag was sadly lacking in large buttons. Stud fasteners, yes; zip fastenners, yes; but, large buttons, no. No linen thread, either. ;

Which gets me on to cotton reels. When we. came to the French knitting phase I found that modern plastic reels are quite useless. You ’• can't hammer four nails into plastic. Luckily, I found two old wooden reels; otherwise there, would have been no French knitting. I flatly refuse to he conned: into buying the commercially-made variety. , Then take knucklebones, In my day. they came from the butcher’s, or if you were lucky enough to live on a farm they came' from one of your.: own sheep. I cap re-

member the seemingly' endless wait to get five knucklebones. ‘ Each one represented a roast dinner. The satisfaction , when all five had been boiled to remove the gristle and they lay, a gleaming, creamy white, in the hand,

Then came the colouring. Boiled with beetroot

juice they became a beauitful deep crimson; onion skins turned them brown, wattle bark; "ellow. I had a friend who dyed hers a delicate pink by boiling them with the covers of some old Auckland weeklies; I" liked mine natural because after a' while they mellowed to a, deep, creamy.,.gold like the , patina of old ivory. I can still feel them.

Reminiscing again. .But, tell me, have you tried to get genuine knucklebones lately? Well, don’t bbther. I tried and I found that that the knucl.le is cut off before the .meat leaves the meat, works and very few filter through to the butcher’s shop these days. Farmer’s, daughters are on tl.'r box seat. ' Of course, that doesn’t mean to say you can’t buy

knucklebones, or ■ what pass for knucklebones — plastic or alloy, wishywashy colours, too small and too light.

When I think of whistles I think of my father who could produce a very effective whistle from the green stalk of a pumpkin. I think, too, of one of those

pseudo-uncles we all acquire in childhood. He could produce .a superb willow whistle.

The piece of willow had to be just right; thicker than a twig but not as thick as a small branch. A ring cut round, then the gentle tap, tap, tap, as he freed the ring of bark from the core underneath He was a real craftsman. Who can make a willow whistle these days? Is there anyone - left , to pass on the knowledge? It’s the same with tops. Who bothers to whittle a top? Or trim up a small pine cone to . make a whipping top? Who would know how to work- it even if they did manage to make it? Who cares? , When I read the query about coal flowers in the Reporter’s Diary I decided

perhaps someone did care after all; so, coal flowers . . . They were always a firm favourite when I was a child. They came and went in a cycle. Looking back I don’t think they had a season like marbles or kite flying, but every, so often they would reappear. A few lumps of coal were placed in. a dish and covered with a mixture made of f cup of salt, j cup of water, and one tablespoonful of ammonia. On to this mixture were dropped . small quantities of red ink, but I believe food colouring works just as well and has more var-. iety of colours. After a few hours, small rosettes or “flowers” formed. Each day about a teaspoon of water was added to the mixture at the bottom so that it did not dry out too much.

We also made chemical gardens of. a different sort. The basis for this was Norton’s Egg Preservative, which was sodium silicate. ’ But again, when I - decided to show my children how to make one, there was nothing but frustration. Norton’s Egg Preservative is . a thing of the past. After several inquiries I found that sodium silicate was sold in

bulk—.a large can, enough to make hundreds of chemical ‘ gardens. > I couldn’t resist it. I had set my, heart on showing them that garden. So, if anyone wants some so? dium silicate ....

To get back to the chemical garden. If any. of you are lucky enough „to have a tin of Norton’s Egg Preservative hidden away in some old shed, here, is what you do: „ . . Pour one cup of sodium silicate and one cup of water into a preserving jar and add a few small stones. Ask your chemist for a few. cents worth of the following crystals iron sulphate, copper sulphate, nickel, sulphate, and chromium sulphate. (Remember they are poisonous, so handle with care.). Drop a few' of the different crystals into the liquid in the preserving jar, and sit back and wait. Within an hour or two beautiful feathery threads of coloured silicates of the metals begin to grow and form the chemical “garden.”

So all is not • lost. We may yet see the return of kelp sandals, peg dolls, supplejack balls, • and ail the other delights children took for granted, before the dawning of the age. of plastic.