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Poetry
The Queen Of Mashed Potato
By gedbackland
27 July 2007

A tribute to the dinner ladies of the late sixties



Rake thin, Mrs Hendry 


Stray tobacco on overall, in hair, on lip


Strokes forearms thickened by 20 years


of pounding ugly spuds


bleached red hands grip tight the masher


to ensure at least one hot meal


for the snot faced scarecrows of cheek

Reviews

Written by philkent (157 comments posted) 28th July 2007
I loved the last line. 
 
I'm thinking she's a dinner lady. This caught and summed up the character very well.

Written by Phil (6713 comments posted) 29th July 2007
Liked this very much. A glimpse back to childhood without sentimentality. I don't remember any thin dinner ladies - I reckon most of them ate their own weight in mash every lunchtime. Things are a little different now.  
 
Short piece, but I had a clear image of Mrs Hendry in my head. 
 
Phil.

Written by gedbackland (24 comments posted) 29th July 2007
 
Thank you Philkent and Phil for taking the time to read and then comment on my work. 
 
One of my earliest memories is of Mrs Hendry head spud masher and dinner lady at Saint Monicas junior school in Bootle Merseyside, battering 20lbs of boiled king edwards into smooth submission inside a massive, scratched, gunmetal gray cooking pot, catching a glimpse of her determined face through the rising steam when she looked up, she winked at me and caried on.

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