I am not your slave

I was always good at making lovely pies.

I get shoved into the kitchen and this one is a very big kitchen. The copper pots are all hanging on the walls.

It looks impressive with hams and curing meats that are hanging from the ceiling giving off a fragrance of cured beef. I was relieved as I always went to the kitchen as a child and was even taught by my Nana that is my lady who took care of me , to make the most juiciest of pies . Chicken or beef I loved making them.

The most fun was when they went to the oven . Up until recently I would go to the kitchen when my father made me angry and go and make pies until I have cooled off. The staff in the kitchen would love that as I would easily make up to a hundred pies at a time.

This is the life I can handle give me kitchen work and I would be happy.

I was rudely woken out of my thoughts when the older lady who stood at the door shouted that we should all stand up straight and put out our hands and that is we what I did.

She was checking to see if our hands were rough from work or if there was Gentry hiding amount the workers. I was definitely Gentry but I loved to work with my hands so much so that my hands were red and blistering from the constant potting soil mixing and other gardening delights.

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