I am one of five offspring and our get-togethers nowadays are too few for my liking.
On Saturday Harriet, her dad and I drove (well, he drove and we passenged) for a couple of hours to see my brother on his fartieth birthday.
(My fartieth is looming and I am attempting to belittle it.)
Harriet was overcome by the size of the crowd that greeted her. She is the twelfth grandchild on my side, so with all of them present along with all my siblings and their spouses there were eleven adults and eleven children to meet. Many of them for the first time.
She was very straight-faced and mute for quite some time; she always weighs people up before affording them a smile or a 'word'. There were so many people for her to suss that she just didn't have the time for smiling till late afternoon.
I have been to countless family gatherings over the years and they are always lively and loud.
After a couple of hours I nipped out and away from the throng with Harriet to visit an elderly neighbour. I used to visit this neighbour when I was a young girl and we have formed a rather improbable bond. She's quite school mistress-like in her demeanour and I was always such a shy girl, so we were an unlikely pairing. She's somewhat afraid of thunderstorms. When I was little if a storm rumbled over I'd stop my brothers / sister giving me a dead leg / Chinese burn / black eye and pop round to keep her company.
My childhood home sits in a valley and storms get trapped there for lengthy periods so she had time to teach me how to play the piano, which was cool. I never got really good at it, but it was fun nonetheless.
She's eighty-seven now
and pretty mutton,
shaky on her pins,
but bright as a button.
I went to see her to introduce her to Harriet, and because her brother had died and I wanted to pass on my sympathy. She was very pleased to see us and welcomed us in and sat us down.
I told her I was sorry to hear about David.
She turned her ear to me and raised her eyebrows. She hadn't heard.
"I'm sorry about David."
Eyebrows up another notch, neck craning.
"Sorry to hear David died."
"Hmm?"
"Sorry about your brother."
"Hmm?"
"Sorry about David"
"Hmm?"
"I was sorry to hear about David."
"Hmm?"
"SORRY YOUR BROTHER'S DEAD."
The pathos was pretty dead at that point too.
That is one sentence that shouldn't really be shouted.
At an old lady.
(I really was sorry about David passing away. He was a kind and uncomplicated person in a world where those qualities are considered less important than they ought. But I didn't know him terribly well and my sadness over his death was mainly at how hard it had hit Liz. She'll be okay though; she's a truly remarkable woman.)
Ooh! Ooh! Before we left Harriet crawled for the whole family to see! She's been attempting to shift herself for some time and it all came together on my mum's living room floor. Her crawling isn't what I'd call typical; she kicks her legs like she's swimming and drags herself with her arms. But what the heck! She's finally mobile!
Anyroad, the family do was done by half nine and we set off home, with me in the driving seat. To fuel me for the drive I'd had my first cup of coffee since becoming pregnant in September 2005 and I buzzed all the way home (and I continued to buzz into the early hours).
With my two lovelies snoozing in the back I pootled along and got a real thrill as I neared our new home. It's always nice to get home, isn't it? And it's especially nice for me now home is somewhere gorgeous. I smiled away to myself as I entered our hometown and was thankful to not be driving into a seething city. I'd gone off the city a long time before we moved away from it.
Home, sweet sweet home.
Last note, before I wind up this epic blog. Harriet also has two more new teeth. I just know that you're dying to know that.
She now has four teeth on the top and still just two on the bottom.
And my hoohas hurt.
Thanks for reading this poppycock.
On Saturday Harriet, her dad and I drove (well, he drove and we passenged) for a couple of hours to see my brother on his fartieth birthday.
(My fartieth is looming and I am attempting to belittle it.)
Harriet was overcome by the size of the crowd that greeted her. She is the twelfth grandchild on my side, so with all of them present along with all my siblings and their spouses there were eleven adults and eleven children to meet. Many of them for the first time.
She was very straight-faced and mute for quite some time; she always weighs people up before affording them a smile or a 'word'. There were so many people for her to suss that she just didn't have the time for smiling till late afternoon.
I have been to countless family gatherings over the years and they are always lively and loud.
After a couple of hours I nipped out and away from the throng with Harriet to visit an elderly neighbour. I used to visit this neighbour when I was a young girl and we have formed a rather improbable bond. She's quite school mistress-like in her demeanour and I was always such a shy girl, so we were an unlikely pairing. She's somewhat afraid of thunderstorms. When I was little if a storm rumbled over I'd stop my brothers / sister giving me a dead leg / Chinese burn / black eye and pop round to keep her company.
My childhood home sits in a valley and storms get trapped there for lengthy periods so she had time to teach me how to play the piano, which was cool. I never got really good at it, but it was fun nonetheless.
She's eighty-seven now
and pretty mutton,
shaky on her pins,
but bright as a button.
I went to see her to introduce her to Harriet, and because her brother had died and I wanted to pass on my sympathy. She was very pleased to see us and welcomed us in and sat us down.
I told her I was sorry to hear about David.
She turned her ear to me and raised her eyebrows. She hadn't heard.
"I'm sorry about David."
Eyebrows up another notch, neck craning.
"Sorry to hear David died."
"Hmm?"
"Sorry about your brother."
"Hmm?"
"Sorry about David"
"Hmm?"
"I was sorry to hear about David."
"Hmm?"
"SORRY YOUR BROTHER'S DEAD."
The pathos was pretty dead at that point too.
That is one sentence that shouldn't really be shouted.
At an old lady.
(I really was sorry about David passing away. He was a kind and uncomplicated person in a world where those qualities are considered less important than they ought. But I didn't know him terribly well and my sadness over his death was mainly at how hard it had hit Liz. She'll be okay though; she's a truly remarkable woman.)
Ooh! Ooh! Before we left Harriet crawled for the whole family to see! She's been attempting to shift herself for some time and it all came together on my mum's living room floor. Her crawling isn't what I'd call typical; she kicks her legs like she's swimming and drags herself with her arms. But what the heck! She's finally mobile!
Anyroad, the family do was done by half nine and we set off home, with me in the driving seat. To fuel me for the drive I'd had my first cup of coffee since becoming pregnant in September 2005 and I buzzed all the way home (and I continued to buzz into the early hours).
With my two lovelies snoozing in the back I pootled along and got a real thrill as I neared our new home. It's always nice to get home, isn't it? And it's especially nice for me now home is somewhere gorgeous. I smiled away to myself as I entered our hometown and was thankful to not be driving into a seething city. I'd gone off the city a long time before we moved away from it.
Home, sweet sweet home.
Last note, before I wind up this epic blog. Harriet also has two more new teeth. I just know that you're dying to know that.
She now has four teeth on the top and still just two on the bottom.
And my hoohas hurt.
Thanks for reading this poppycock.
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