When I was a young school girl, it was accepted that "Girls Cooked" & "Boys Woodworked".
I don't really know who made the rules, or decreed who did what.
I suspect my mother looked upon it all, with somewhat jaundiced eye.
She was somewhat of a Rebel for her age group.
She was quite 'handy'.
She could not see, why the sexes were separated, to 'limit' their skills.
To be fair to the very small, school, she attended in the 30's, she was offered some skills in Poker work, Wood work, & I do believe her brothers, & other males~including my father~ were offered cooking & sewing classes.
There were varying degrees of success or failure at these said classes~ all offered at a very small, rural school, where farming was the norm, & girls were girls & boys were boys!
However one of the skills my Paternal Grandmother was said to possess, was the ability to make light, fantastic, Flakey Pastry!!
My mother strived to make Flakey Pastry. It almost never worked out for her.
We would laugh & tease, at each attempt. Occasionally, she would manage a flake or two! & we would point it out, & savour~ the flake/s!
This is not a picture of my mother's Flakey Pastry.
It is my (bought ) Flakey Pastry!
Soon after I married, I tried making Flakey Pastry.
I was pleasantly surprised to discover I could make a creditable, & light, delicious Flakey Pastry.
My mother's lip would curl, when she mentioned my paternal Grandmother's ability in the pastry making stakes.
I felt quite proud of my newly discovered ability, & was quite surprised at my mother's seemingly dismissive learning at the news, of my talent.
I was later to learn of the underlying currents, between my PGrandmother, & my mother. I could finally understand the curl of my mother's lip, when she discussed the Paternal G's pastry making ability.
I could see, why she would not value any virtue of my Paternal Grandmother.
I was very proud of my talent, nonetheless.
However I have let the talent lapse. It is much easier to buy, & use, the pre,cut, rolled & prepared slices of Flakey Pastry.
Shame, I know, but surely, the way of the modern world.
Take the easy way out. Much faster. Less effort. Less drama.
Queen, Too Much Love Will Kill You.