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A Grave-y Flu
I was sitting at the dinner table with Mum and Dad. "Can you pass me the gravy Mum?" "Here you go Edith darling" said Mum as she passed me the gravy. I poured it all over my pork chops. “I love gravy,” I said.
When dinner was over I went to do my homework. "What is your project about?" Mum asked. “It’s supposed to be about the Spanish flu,” I sighed. "You finding year five hard huh?" "No," I lied “just a bit boring”. "When's it due?" she asked. "Monday next week," I replied. "Well what about you drop by at Old Mr Tibbler's and ask him if he knows anything cool about the Flu?" "Ok,” I agreed. Old Mr Tibbler was a positively ancient man with smiling blue eyes. He ran an antique shop down on Chestnut Avenue and he knew lots of things about the olden days. Mum's idea was a good one.
The next day after school I parked my bike outside the beautiful shop. The bell tinkled as I stepped inside. I wandered up to the dark mahogany desk and waited, after a moment Mr Tibbler came out from the store room. "Oh hello Edith,” he said, the wrinkles beside his eyes crinkling. “What brings you here?’’ “Well I am doing this assignment for school and I couldn’t get any ideas.” “Aha, well what exactly is the project about?” Mr Tibbler asked. “It is about the Spanish flu but I don’t really know anything about it.” “Well I have some items from the time, here I’ll show you,” he led me over to a shelf that was decorated with old news clippings about the flu. “See here this gravy jug and this cotton mask?’’ “What was the gravy jug used for?” I asked. “Well you know back in those days we didn’t have a great understanding of medicine and the OXO gravy company claimed, A cupful of OXO two or three times a day will prove an immense service as a protective measure. Obviously it didn’t work though. Want to have a closer look?’’ he asked. “Sure,” I said. He picked up the chipped porcelain jug and placed it in my hands.
My stomach lurched and I was spent spinning. I slammed down hard on the ground. When I came to my senses I was lying on a dirt road. I stood up and shook the dust from my clothes, when I saw what I was wearing I almost cried out in shock. I was wearing a pale floral dress with a square collar lined with lace. The houses on the street were old fashioned and some of them had red crosses in the windows and the curtains drawn. I knocked on one of these doors and a woman shouted about having the flu and to go away. Where on earth was I? I tried a door without a red cross and woman came to the door. Before opening the door she shouted, “Are you diseased?” “No!” I shouted back. “I am lost. Could you help me?” The woman cautiously opened the door. She was wearing a face mask, but it was not like the clean looking blue and white ones we wear during covid, but dirty and made of greyish cotton. “Why are you wandering around? Doesn’t your family obey the curfew?” “What curfew!” I thought. “What year is it?” “Why its 1919. Are you ok love?” I wasn’t lost in space, I was lost in time...
The woman, who’s name was Doris, told me to come into the house. I picked up my school bag which lay on the ground and had turned into a small leather satchel. She took me into the house and lay me down on a lumpy bed and put a wet rag on my forehead. “Dear dear, my I hope you don’t you have the influenza, dear dear.” “What influenza, hang on 1919 - no no no no not the Spanish Flu, I need to get back to 2022.” “2022?” said Doris disbelievingly. “Dolly come and help me this poor girl isn’t right in the head!” A girl, perhaps a few years younger than me, came out of the side room. She looked much like Doris except here eyes were blue instead of hazel.
I stayed with these kind people for a few days, then on the third day Dolly became ill with a high fever and a terrible headache. These were both flu symptoms and Doris and Mr Thompson (Doris’s husband) were terribly worried she had the flu. Dolly also had two brothers but neither of them were sick. The next day Mr. Thompson came home with a packet of OXO gravy. “Your not using that for Dolly’s flu are you?” I asked remembering what Mr. Tibbler had said. That all seemed like another life. 1919 was so different to 2022. There wasn’t much room and I slept with the boys Jeramiah and George. They were noisy and, well I guess they were just boys . Anyway I told Mr. Thompson that gravy would not do anything and rest and lots of water would be more useful and less expensive. He still gave her a cup of gravy but I did notice that he made sure Dolly had a good sleep gave her lots of water. And in a few days Dolly started getting better.
We had a roast pork on Sunday night to celebrate, for by some miracle Dolly had fully recovered. I was shocked when Doris set the table. It was there in the very centre of the table, the very same gravy jug which had bought me here in the first place. All of a sudden I felt so home sick I almost burst into tears but instead I said, “Where did you get it?” “What?” asked Doris. “That gravy jug,” I almost shouted with excitement. “Oh it’s a family heirloom. My great, great grandfather got it on a ship when he came here as a convict.” I was now so excited that I almost interrupted her story about her great great grandfather. “Is there any other one like it?” I asked. Doris seemed to take a century to answer my final question. “No its hand made English porcelain, one of a kind.” I reached for the gravy jug and picked it up...
I was back in 2022. I had done my job. I had helped cure little Dolly and I knew that I had gone back to 1919 for a reason. I looked up at Mr. Tibbler. There was a twinkle in those smiling blue eyes, eyes that I had seen on only one other person. That person was Dolly Thomson.
I was sitting at the dinner table with Mum and Dad. "Can you pass me the gravy Mum?" "Here you go Edith darling" said Mum as she passed me the gravy. I poured it all over my pork chops. “I love gravy,” I said.
When dinner was over I went to do my homework. "What is your project about?" Mum asked. “It’s supposed to be about the Spanish flu,” I sighed. "You finding year five hard huh?" "No," I lied “just a bit boring”. "When's it due?" she asked. "Monday next week," I replied. "Well what about you drop by at Old Mr Tibbler's and ask him if he knows anything cool about the Flu?" "Ok,” I agreed. Old Mr Tibbler was a positively ancient man with smiling blue eyes. He ran an antique shop down on Chestnut Avenue and he knew lots of things about the olden days. Mum's idea was a good one.
The next day after school I parked my bike outside the beautiful shop. The bell tinkled as I stepped inside. I wandered up to the dark mahogany desk and waited, after a moment Mr Tibbler came out from the store room. "Oh hello Edith,” he said, the wrinkles beside his eyes crinkling. “What brings you here?’’ “Well I am doing this assignment for school and I couldn’t get any ideas.” “Aha, well what exactly is the project about?” Mr Tibbler asked. “It is about the Spanish flu but I don’t really know anything about it.” “Well I have some items from the time, here I’ll show you,” he led me over to a shelf that was decorated with old news clippings about the flu. “See here this gravy jug and this cotton mask?’’ “What was the gravy jug used for?” I asked. “Well you know back in those days we didn’t have a great understanding of medicine and the OXO gravy company claimed, A cupful of OXO two or three times a day will prove an immense service as a protective measure. Obviously it didn’t work though. Want to have a closer look?’’ he asked. “Sure,” I said. He picked up the chipped porcelain jug and placed it in my hands.
My stomach lurched and I was spent spinning. I slammed down hard on the ground. When I came to my senses I was lying on a dirt road. I stood up and shook the dust from my clothes, when I saw what I was wearing I almost cried out in shock. I was wearing a pale floral dress with a square collar lined with lace. The houses on the street were old fashioned and some of them had red crosses in the windows and the curtains drawn. I knocked on one of these doors and a woman shouted about having the flu and to go away. Where on earth was I? I tried a door without a red cross and woman came to the door. Before opening the door she shouted, “Are you diseased?” “No!” I shouted back. “I am lost. Could you help me?” The woman cautiously opened the door. She was wearing a face mask, but it was not like the clean looking blue and white ones we wear during covid, but dirty and made of greyish cotton. “Why are you wandering around? Doesn’t your family obey the curfew?” “What curfew!” I thought. “What year is it?” “Why its 1919. Are you ok love?” I wasn’t lost in space, I was lost in time...
The woman, who’s name was Doris, told me to come into the house. I picked up my school bag which lay on the ground and had turned into a small leather satchel. She took me into the house and lay me down on a lumpy bed and put a wet rag on my forehead. “Dear dear, my I hope you don’t you have the influenza, dear dear.” “What influenza, hang on 1919 - no no no no not the Spanish Flu, I need to get back to 2022.” “2022?” said Doris disbelievingly. “Dolly come and help me this poor girl isn’t right in the head!” A girl, perhaps a few years younger than me, came out of the side room. She looked much like Doris except here eyes were blue instead of hazel.
I stayed with these kind people for a few days, then on the third day Dolly became ill with a high fever and a terrible headache. These were both flu symptoms and Doris and Mr Thompson (Doris’s husband) were terribly worried she had the flu. Dolly also had two brothers but neither of them were sick. The next day Mr. Thompson came home with a packet of OXO gravy. “Your not using that for Dolly’s flu are you?” I asked remembering what Mr. Tibbler had said. That all seemed like another life. 1919 was so different to 2022. There wasn’t much room and I slept with the boys Jeramiah and George. They were noisy and, well I guess they were just boys . Anyway I told Mr. Thompson that gravy would not do anything and rest and lots of water would be more useful and less expensive. He still gave her a cup of gravy but I did notice that he made sure Dolly had a good sleep gave her lots of water. And in a few days Dolly started getting better.
We had a roast pork on Sunday night to celebrate, for by some miracle Dolly had fully recovered. I was shocked when Doris set the table. It was there in the very centre of the table, the very same gravy jug which had bought me here in the first place. All of a sudden I felt so home sick I almost burst into tears but instead I said, “Where did you get it?” “What?” asked Doris. “That gravy jug,” I almost shouted with excitement. “Oh it’s a family heirloom. My great, great grandfather got it on a ship when he came here as a convict.” I was now so excited that I almost interrupted her story about her great great grandfather. “Is there any other one like it?” I asked. Doris seemed to take a century to answer my final question. “No its hand made English porcelain, one of a kind.” I reached for the gravy jug and picked it up...
I was back in 2022. I had done my job. I had helped cure little Dolly and I knew that I had gone back to 1919 for a reason. I looked up at Mr. Tibbler. There was a twinkle in those smiling blue eyes, eyes that I had seen on only one other person. That person was Dolly Thomson.