A wet afternoon and my aged maiden aunt and I had been listening to the gramophone in spare room. Suddenly she said, "Monday's child is fair of face." Seeing I was mystified she added, "A birthday rhyme. Tuesday's child is full of grace, Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thursday's child has far to go. Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for a living. And what do you think Sunday's child is?"
I shook my head, knowing it was certain to be really good.
"Bonny and blithe and good and gay." I groaned silently as she continued. "You, me and your mother were all born on a Monday. And it doesn't mean you've got a pale face either. Means you'll be good looking." Aged nine I wished that Monday's child was rich in comics and toys and sweets. My aunt had just received her weekly Mars bar with the groceries. I decided to show an interest. "When was dad born?"
She smiled, "A Friday. So he's..." She was testing my memory.
"Loving and giving," I replied.
"And he is. A very kind man. Mind you he could have been born on a Saturday," She paused to allow me to add that he worked hard for a living.
She nodded her approval. "Come along with me and we'll see what sweets auntie can find. As well as fair of face, I'll be loving and giving. One day you'll have to work hard for your living. Nobody gets something for nothing. After your slice of Mars bar you can help me wipe the eggs over for the egg man tomorrow."