Yesterday, my sister-in-law Shirley, lent me an old wooden spoon that was my Mum's. It was a wooden spoon with an extra long handle, and my Mum used it when she was making jam. Mum was married for 42 years and only gave up jam making in the last few years before she died, because during the heat in the summer, as she put it "standing draws my legs". I think she made around 70lbs of jam and marmalade every year, and over about 40 years, the jam spoon probably stirred 2,800 lbs of jam! The jam spoon is no longer straight - the stem arcs gently, and the lip of the spoon has a flat edge worn into it, at the angle where it would meet the bottom of the maslin pan.
I have feelings of tremendous affection for this spoon, as it shows the amount of labour given by my Mum, to make tasty nutritious food for her family. However, it is also tinged with sadness, because for all her hard work and dedication to us, my Dad was not the type of man who ever noticed how hard she worked, and it certainly never occurred to him to say thank you. Another small example of the repetitive tasks carried out by women, being unrecognised.
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