The Winner of the Flash Fiction Competition 2021

2nd Prize

Deb Bridges

History of the Tea Towel

The History of the Tea Towel

“Good evening, ladies. My name’s Irene and I’d like to thank you for inviting me to speak to your WI group this evening. Tea towels! You’ll hear there’s so much more to them than meets the eye, as we cover ground that takes us beyond a simple account of their history - fascinating though that is.”

Since when did early sixties start seeming young? There’s a small knot of them at the back and they’re not listening.

“The tea towel, in some form or other, has been with us since the dawn of time …”

I wish they’d keep their voices down and stop giggling. Worse than teenagers.

“But the true tea towel, as we know it today, has its roots in the early eighteenth century ….”

Just keep smiling. Maybe move on to care of the tea towel?

“Contrary to popular belief, tea towels should never be boiled. Stains can be removed in a variety of ways, their biggest enemy being the tea stain.”

Mopping up tea. On her hands and knees, among shards of broken china. She never cried. Not in front of us children, anyway.

“Sprinkling with salt isn’t the answer, as this can set the stain …”

That’s got one or two senior members fidgeting, as if they’d like to disagree. At least they’re listening.

“Blood’s another tricky one. Fortunately, most of us have some bicarbonate of soda in the cupboard …”

Unpredictable, his temper, that was the thing. You’d never see it coming.

“Of course, vinegar will do the job, but nobody wants their house smelling like a fish and chip shop!”

No, it’s not getting their attention. Perhaps try the multitude of uses?

“These days, tea towels can hold their own as a green alternative to a good many disposable items, such as wipes, clingfilm and paper towels.”

Wrapped around a bag of frozen peas, it won’t make a black eye go away but it can ease the pain.

“Picture a family picnic. Tea towels enveloping your crockery and cutlery, wrapped around your sandwiches and draped over the cake to keep those pesky wasps off!”

She always used the checked ones - red, blue, green, yellow - bright with promise. Goodness, is this what’s called ‘heckling’? Those ‘youngsters’ at the back.

“Yes, dear, I’m sure they’d keep your Prosecco nice and cool!”

We took orange juice. Lemonade for birthdays. Beer, if he came. Heavens, they’re all guzzling back there. I hope they’re not driving. Like as not, they’ll be a bit unsteady on their feet.

“Oops! Would you like one of my terry cloths to wipe that up?”

He was very unsteady, lurching into a clumsy overarm action and laughing as the empty cans disappeared from view in a glittering arc. I imagined them, bouncing off the jagged cliff face. Down and down, with a sickening inevitability, to the greedy, seething water, far below.

“Never mind. Accidents happen, don’t they?”

They certainly do. That’s why she told us to never go near the edge. And we never did. Except that once.

Author Bio

Deb has always wanted to write something - anything, really. About ten years ago, she was encouraged (okay, bullied) by the tutor of a writing group into submitting a feature to a magazine. It turned out to be the first of many and Deb has gone on to write regular features on her favourite subjects - dogs and anything to do with the countryside. She has also written a guide to dog-walking in Devon, where she lives, and is now working on a second book. When not bashing out features and guidebooks, Deb likes to have a go at fiction and, being quite a mild person, is unable to explain why someone always seems to die in her stories.