Some of the toys that live under the stairs, waiting for little grandchildren to bring them to life.
Thanks for the topic Jake, feel a lot happier today
relationships
Life throws me a curved ball
I haven’t posted anything for a while; I have had to deal with some very upsetting family developments which, quite frankly have let me stunned. I had been away to Crete and had a wonderful holiday (post on that to follow hopefully) when on my way home from the airport, I had to deal with a call from a distraught daughter-in-law.
My son has moved of their home. There have been no arguments, no-one else is involved; he just feels the need to be on his own and work out what it is that is making him unhappy. He has said he will arrange to see a counsellor.
Their marriage was one I would have bet on as a sure thing; they are so good together and have been for almost 18 years
I have spoken to them both, offered a bed, food, a shoulder, a sounding board – anything that will help. She is the daughter I never had and I am feeling so incredibly sad for them both.
I hope to be back with you soon, sorry not to have been around for a while
Weekly photo challenge – Create – A Bird of Paradise
As soon as I read the topic for the challenge this week, I thought of my grandmother and a piece of work she created when she was 76, after signing up for a night school course to ‘learn something a bit different”. Her eyesight was getting worse and she was suffering with arthritis in her hands, but once she had started the embrodiery course she was determined to see it through. The result of her labours was framed and put on show in the town hall, causing her much embarrassment.
She had knitted, sewed and crocheted all her life; in the early days of her marriage it was through necessity, but in later life she enjoyed giving small gifts to friends and family. Her’s is an incredible story of love and separation, of loss, betrayal and fortitude and perhaps one day I will write about her. In the meantime, although I appreciate it is not to everyone’s taste, I hope you enjoy her “Bird of Paradise”. I inherited it on her death and it is one of my most treasured possessions.
and a close up of the detail of the bird’s head
Weekly Photo Challenge – Sunset
This photo holds a special memory for me. It was taken a few years ago, at a time when I wasn’t sure which path to take. I took some time out to be on my own, to try to make up my mind what I wanted to do. The sunset was just so magical and being near the sea lifted my spirits, made me feel calm and able to make my decision.
More on the new man, how long will it last??
Yesterday, my youngest son and his wife arrived with new daughter sleeping pecefully, and announced that they had come to take Grannie and Grandad to the park! So, I have a name at last! I was allowed to push the new pram carrying my youngest granddaughter and, like a learner driver I set off with great caution.
It was a lovely day; the sky a light, blue, without a cloud, the air crisp and clear with the promise of spring just around the corner.
We walked on; dad and grandad taking the lead, with mum and grannie bringing up the rear with the pram. I watched my son and his father walking ahead, almost shoulder to shoulder and remembered how many times we had walked this route in the past, to shout encouragement at football matches and tennis games, now we were walking with his baby daughter, well wrapped up and asleep in her new pram.
On we walked. Through the park, down by the river, along the bank then up and and across the little renovated metal bridge to the tea rooms on the other side. Lots of folk had taken advantage of the weather and were out with their dogs and bikes and children, all drawn like magnets to the tea rooms for refreshment and, in my case, a sit down!
After tea and a large slice of Victoria Sponge, (fortification for the walk home you understand) we set off back. The baby had woken and was due to be fed. So we quickened our pace. It was at this point that I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my calf. My son relieved me of pram duty and I sat for a while on a low wall, massaging my leg. The baby was very annoyed with us by this stage, so the little family walked ahead, leaving grannie and grandad to follow behind.
Lying in the bath this morning, trying to ease the pulled muscle in my leg, I became aware of a drum-drum-drum noise coming from somewhere nearby. It was similar to the noise a car makes going over ridges in the road and I wondered if perhaps our “dawn chorus” of feathered friends, at odds with losing an hour of sleep, were doing some sort of tap dance on the roof in protest! Slowly I realised it was coming from the shower room next door. My husband was cleaning the tiles after his shower and the noise was made by the squidgy blade cleaner, running over the grouting as it moved from tile to tile!
I lay back and smiled, he really has been listening.
But I wonder how long it will last.
A new man?
“What do you think of the wine?”
“Mm it’s not bad. It will be better when it’s warmed up a bit though.”
“Ah well, usually I’d agree with you, but not this time. This wine can be drunk straight after opening.”
“Well, I prefer my red wine at room temperature.”
A slight pause ensues. He is trying very hard to be nice to me. I feel annoyed with myself. This meal is a complete surprise and is very welcome. I have been attending a conference for two days; in the normal way of things I would return home, we would make a little small talk about his days and my days, I would fuss over the dog, then shower and change and make dinner. But not tonight! Tonight I am seated in a very nice restaurant, waiting for my red wine to warm up a little and recovering from the shock of his greeting, “When you are showered and changed, I am taking you out”.
My husband is not a house husband. He has told me this on many occasions so it must be true. Although he is retired now from his former high-powered job and has time to follow his hobbies, visit friends, walk the dog, watch tv, he sees no reason to add shopping, cooking or helping with the housework to his activities. My sister says that it’s an ‘age thing’. There is an age gap, but not a generation!
I watch him watching cookery programmes and see his obvious delight and appreciation in food well cooked and nicely presented. If I happen to leave the room, I am used to his shout of, ‘You need to come and see this, this looks great and not too much messing around’, as if he intends to make the dish himself some time soon.
I have thrown things at him in the past but to no avail.
When I came home a couple of weeks ago, from a meeting in London, I sat him down and told him we needed to have a serious conversation. And we did. I asked if he would please try and help more; if he noticed that we were out of bread, toilet rolls, teabags, coffee, whatever, it would be a great help if he’d go and buy what we needed when he was out next, and not leave messages on my mobile telling me what we were short of, and asking if I could collect them on my way home!
I also asked him if he remembered the times a few years ago, when he used to get home after a few stressful days away; the lovely dinner waiting for him, how he could just relax and unwind, even nod off in the chair……..
A few quiet, thoughtful days followed. Later in the week, I noticed a different type of bread left out on the work surface. I opened my mouth and closed it again very quickly. Bread is bread, more or less I decided, and perhaps he liked this brand better than the one I usually buy. I eat very little bread. I put it away and said nothing.
A few days later, a different brand of teabags appeared. I don’t drink tea, but wondered why he had chosen this brand. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked him. He told me that when he went out to buy the bread, he was amazed at all the different varieties and thought he would try something different. He gave the same reason for the choice of teabags, and also said that he fully intended buying yet another brand when these were finished.
He added that although he had listened and understood what I was getting at, he would have a problem when it came to replacing the coffee. He doesn’t drink coffee. Would it be alright if he just bought the same brand again?
I said that would be perfect.
Another Girl!
I have been so busy these last few weeks with the birth of my second granddaughter. We were so excited to have one, but to have two girls is just so amazing. They are both coming on really well and the mums are doing fine too.
I haven’t got an answer to my question yet but I’m sure a name will emerge in a little while. Funnily enough my sons have tentatively referred to me as Grandma and Gran, as if they are trying to get used to calling me something other than mum!
I look forward to the coming months and will update the blog from time to time to let you know how they are getting on.
What do I want to be called?
This lovely cartoon is by Pamela
Perry courtesy of http://www.babyclipart.net/
I have recently become a grandmother for the first time and
will soon be a grandmother for the second time – did my sons and
wives get together and plan this? I did have a few
words about the lack of grandchildren, but that was AGES ago!! So
now, I have an adorable granddaughter and am waiting very excitedly
to see what the next baby will be. I have been more
interested in the names that are to be given to my grandchildren,
but it seems that everyone wants to know what name I am to known by
and, to be honest I haven’t got a clue. My granddaughter already
has a Grandma and I’m told that two grandmas would be confusing for
the child, unless of course we are known as Grandma A and Grandma B
which does sound silly and why use grandma again when there are so
many other names I could have. Grandmother Grannie Gran Nan Nannie
G-ma And a few foreign
ones too
- NaiNai
- Lola
- Bomma
- Grandmere
- Meme
- Oma
- YaYa
- Tutu
- Savta
- Nonna
- Oba-chan
- Halmoni
- Busia
- VoVo
- Babushka
- Abuela
- Bube
There are some great names there, but I still haven’t chosen mine.
I thought there was no urgency as it will be a while before
either of the babies calls me anything, the parents however, demand
a name! So if any kind person would like to help me with
this, I really would be very grateful
Wedding vows lost in translation?
Should you decide that you want your wedding, or the renewal of wedding vows, to take place somewhere more exotic than the local church or registry office, the sun kissed, palm-fringed, beautiful beaches of the Maldives must score highly under the heading of paradise on earth.
But, if this is something you are planning or know someone who is, then a word of caution – make sure you know what you are saying “I Do” to!
The news of the couple who thought they were being blessed but instead were sorely abused by a ranting celebrant, came to light after a video of the renewal of their vows was posted on You Tube; ironically as a joke by an employee of the hotel where the even took place, who obviously never gave a thought to the seriousness of the consequences of his actions.
Sight of the video has caused outrage among the government and hoteliers of the Maldives, reliant as they are on the currency generated by the tourist trade. Apologies have been made to the couple involved, together with an offer of compensation. Quite right too.
Perhaps, when we go abroad to marry or renew our vows, we should take the relevant translation with us, just to be on the safe side.
A morning in the attic – up to my knees in memories
This all came about because my OH couldn’t find the black luggage label. The label is one of two we purchased in a little shop in Jasper, three years ago; it is made of black leather, with a cut out of the first letter of our surname in a contrasting pink leather – sounds a bit OTT, but trust me, it looks very smart when attached to one end of a piece of luggage. And different. I have never seen any more like them anywhere. I found the other one, the pink one with the black letter, but there was no way he was going to take that one with him on his trip!
I thought perhaps it had got inside one of the other bags and said as much, which was a mistake and resulted in an attic search on Saturday. Our attic, like most I guess, is the respository for things that don’t quite fit anywhere else, or you can’t quite bring yourself to throw out. Like luggage which takes up far too much room to be stored anywhere else; an old artificial Christmas tree, which gets a revamp every year and placed in the porch and all the decorations that adorn the “real” tree when it comes, various tins, boxes, bags, records, my old hockey stick, a pair of crutches (??) the list goes on.
So, rather begrudgingly, I took myself off to the attic, armed with a couple of bags for sorting the rubbish and my phone in case there was an emergency and I was needed (please) and the thought I would catch up with my twitter friends if I got bored! That worked out well, until I realised I was spending a little too much time tweeting and not enough time sorting!
I checked the luggage and found the black tag, yes! That is when I should have stopped and gone downstairs triumphantly with the find, but I didn’t because underneath the oldest of the bags, was a pile of photographs. And so I started going through them. Big mistake, huge.
You remember those pre-digital days, when we took snaps on rolls of film we bought at the chemist or supermarket, wound carefully onto the spool in the camera, away from bright light in case we damaged it? Then when we had finished the roll, it rewound, if you had the latest camera; or you had to rewind by hand, turning for ever until the film was wound back into its’ case. Then you took it out and handed it in to be developed. You waited with bated breath, hoping that the photograph you had taken of your grandmother’s 80th birthday party, with all those relatives you had never met before, turn out OK as they all want a copy as a keepsake. Well, there were envelopes full of photos like that!
Photos of my children on their first bikes, at the beach, on a slide, running in the egg and spoon race; a birthday party with a cake in the shape of a fire engine all red icing with white ladders on the top; school outings and new uniform days, the first day of “big school” all wide-eyed and anxious; scrubbed within an inch of their lives, ready for whatever was coming their way.
There were photos taken at friends weddings – why did I ever think I would look good in an outift like that? It is the clothes that date the photographs more so than the people, who somehow manage to stay more or less looking like they always have. Then the babies started to come along and there are piles of photos of them. Then, from somewhere at the bottom of the pile I found photos of my parents. They have both gone now, but looking at them, laughing into the camera lens, on holiday in Ibiza, the Yorkshire Dales or the Scottish highlands brought tears to my eyes and I remember them more clearly seeing the photographs, than I ever do just thinking about them.
I spent a long time in the attic. My knees were sore and I only had a small pile of rubbish to show for my morning’s work, but there were lots of happy memories
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