And We Never Went Near The Christmas Market

 It’s not that I dislike Christmas shopping - for what could be nicer than giving someone a gift that pleases them. No, that’s the part I love. What I struggle with is finding the right thing, because it’s awful to imagine the recipient opening a present that sparks little joy.

Then there’s the pressure. Every year, once Christmas is over, I resolve to start putting presents away from January onward. This rarely happens – and when it does, I find myself staring at the item I bought months before, that thing that has languished in a paper bag, in the depths of my wardrobe, wondering why on earth did I ever thought it would suit anyone, let alone the person I bought it for.

And then there are the crowds. Each year, as I brave the shops, I remember that Christmas Eve, so many years ago, when in a thronging Dunnes Store, I literally sat down and wept. On the floor of Dunnes Store. Thankfully, everyone passing by pretended not to notice.

So, when my eldest grandchild messaged to ask if we could go to Belfast together to shop for her Christmas gifts from Bert and me – just as we did last year, I was, at first, slightly dismayed. She must have enjoyed it to want to do it againbut it wasn’t as enjoyable for me. I remembered being exhausted and a little bit cranky. But then I thought about it. She’s sixteen now, and won’t always want to spend a day shopping with an ageing grandparent. And if she thinks I’m able for it, if she believes in me, then perhaps it’s time I started believing in myself, too.

I got myself into the right frame of mind. Laid down only one ground rule, which was lots of sit downs and coffee breaks for me. I actually found myself looking forward to the outing.

And it was worth looking forward to.

Despite the train being jam-packed full of eager shoppers. Martha got on at Ballymena and had to stand most of the way to Belfast. She was unable to make her way to my carriage so we met for the first time at Grand Central.

Despite me needing lots of loo breaks. For it was a cold day. Martha was very understanding.

Despite getting swarmed by eleven year old girls beside the cosmetics in Primark. I was standing in a dangerous place. The panic attack only lasted a few minutes after I dashed outside.

Despite Martha finding it impossible to decide between two cardis in Urban Outfitters. That was my favourite shop of all as I had a sofa to sit on and lots of interesting people to watch.

I was easily the oldest customer in OU that day. 

Afterwards, I was so pleased that I had managed to go shopping in Belfast, on a Saturday, braving all the crowded shops and managed to stay chilled. Except for when I was in Primark, of course. I’d say that as Christmas shopping experiences go it was actually enjoyable. I’m already looking forward to next year. If I’m spared.

Family Time

 Last week, Katy and her family came over from Norfolk for a short Easter break. was lovely to see them, even though the weather wasn’t great—wet and cold for the most part.

Still, we all managed to enjoy ourselves.

Unlike in previous years, I didn’t stock the freezer in advance. Instead, I kept things simple and cooked meals from scratch—which, in the end, turned out to be less of a faff.

This time they didn’t bother with a car so I drove them where they needed to go. The young ones were just as happy knocking around here as they would have been getting out and about.

Thursday was the only day with halfway decent weather, so they took the train to Belfast for a visit to the Ulster Museum in Botanic Gardens. James, however, couldn’t quite settle at either the gardens or the museum, so the outing ended up being a brief half-day trip. Still, he thoroughly enjoyed the train journey and even managed to inform his parents about the type of rolling stock they were travelling on. They were surprised to learn that, unlike the rest of the UK—England, Scotland, and Wales - Northern Ireland does not use standard gauge railway tracks. Instead, it operates on the wider Irish gauge, in line with the rest of the island. James does know a lot about trains.

Evie, James, Emily, and I managed to squeeze in a quick jaunt to Portglenone Forest. Unfortunately, we were without Martha’s company, as she was at home revising for her upcoming GCSEs. James, in a moment of curiosity, decided to test the depth of a puddle by stepping straight into it—and promptly got a very wet foot. I suggested that next time, he might consider using a stick.

Friday was the best day of all. I had the pleasure of spending most of it with all my daughters and all four grandchildren. The younger ones threw themselves into an art project, their main focus being the design and painting of a stone for Ziggy’s grave. When that was completed, the house erupted into a raucous game of hide and seek, with Zoe and Hannah joining in as well. It was loud, chaotic, and full of laughter. The best hiding spots were claimed by Evie, who disappeared into a cluttered corner of the attic, and Emily, who managed to curl up inside a storage box. Being small certainly offers advantages in a game like that - but Evie, despite her height, managed to baffle everyone for quite some time.

And that was our last night. Everyone (except Bert of course) was up really early the next day and off to the airport for eight o’clock. I was sad to see them all leave but glad that we’d had the time together. The house was so quiet when I got home but that was good too.

Until the next time! 

One From 19 Years Ago

I posted the following piece back when our lovely Matty was still in the land of the living. It was nineteen years ago. We were still living down the road and in the process of having this house renovated.

I spend a fair bit of my time sailing Matty around the country and recently I've been coming to the conclusion that hanging out with the very old is a lot like hanging out with the very young.

Here's some of the stuff I used to have to do for Zoe, Katy and Hannah when they were little ones.

• Hold on to them in town for fear they might run into the traffic.
• Monitor their unsuitable conversations with complete strangers.
• Encourage them to eat nourishing food.
• Leave them at home if I was going to do some serious shopping.

Now take that last point. Last Wednesday I visited a plumbing supplies shop in Kilrea and Matty came too. Now when the shopowner realised that I needed a lot of stuff for the new house he went into selling overdrive. After about two minutes I got awfully bored as he was speaking Plumberese and I don't understand Plumberese except for the odd word like pipe or tap. Now normally I'm awfully good at cutting these conversations short, usually by being very blunt. On this occasion I put it to him that I didn't understand a word he was talking about and that I was just here to look at the pretty baths and basins and that Bert would be along shortly to talk technicalities with him. But because I was also keeping an eye out for Matty I couldn't concentrate properly on getting away. Meanwhile Matty was becoming very restless indeed. Just like a toddler who hates this boring shop and wants to go somewhere more interesting instead. She was at her usual tricks. Wandering around aimlessly whilst sighing heavily, looking as if she might collapse if somebody didn't come and take her to a charity shop this minute and I swear I think I saw her, out of the corner of my eye, kicking one of the baths.

When I wrote this I did not have grandchildren. That was still five years in the future but since they've been around I've had the whole taking small kids shopping experience all over again. And yes, I stand by what I said then. Shopping with the elderly is not unlike shopping with little ones. Except, maybe, if a little one falls over they get picked up, dusted down, given sweeties and all is well. If an oldie falls it's ambulance time and a day and a half in Accident and Emergency. Thankfully that never happened with Matty and fingers crossed, it won't happen to me. For it's only a year or two to when it will be Miss Martha keeping me from walking into the traffic.

New Year's Eve

 

Wow! New Year’s Eve already. Where did this last week go?

New tradition. I opened my presents on Christmas Eve as I knew I was going to be either awfully busy or perhaps incapacitated on the actual day.

Christmas Day. Just Nellybert, Howard and the five dogs.

I managed to cook a turkey to perfection and made some excellent gravy. We had chocolate Pavlova with cherries and blackberries for dessert and, of course, too much wine.

After dinner we sat down to watch Nick Cave and Nat King Cole on YouTube. Howard left at dark to see to his chickens and Bert and I settled down to a couple of episodes of Fargo. We are all caught up now and now have to wait for the weekly dole out.

I fed nine on Boxing Day. We three, four Haribos Swisser and son. There was only one extra dog, Rex, who was so chilled you’d hardly know he was there.

It was a busy day as I had desserts to complete and vegetable dishes to prepare. And… new gravy to make. Secret ingredient – remains of old gravy. Gravy was going to be important as the roast chicken dinner I’d made for the Haribos a few weeks earlier had insufficient gravy and this was very disappointing. They were fighting over the last teaspoonful. Not Zoe, of course, as she was reared on disappointing dinners. However, her stoicism must be wearing off for she was quite miffed to find a plain, day-before Brussels sprout on her plate. I did serve sprouts, sliced, braised with carrots and seasoned with soy sauce and they were good. Even Hannah enjoyed them not realising that she was eating the much-maligned and hateful sprout.

For dessert I served a citrussy, almondy Italian cake (Papa Haribo’s favourite), a baked cheesecake, a trifle and the leftover Pavlova. When the food settled we played charades which was a lot of fun.

The day after Boxing Day was a Wednesday. Ben and Sara called and that is all I remember about that. We watched another episode of Fargo. Bert is obsessed with The League of Gentlemen and is working his way through all the series. He finds it unsettling and scary.

Thursday we had Lulu to stay as her people are going to Glasgow for Hogmanay.

Friday evening brought the young Haribos straight off the train from Derry.

Saturday the young ones and Lulu Netflixed and chilled (in bed) for most of the day. After I’d left them home and had a bit of supper we watched Saltburn. There were bits were I had to cover my eyes. Unsettling. A bit scary.

Today, Sunday, New Year’s Eve has been quiet. Except for Lulu, upstairs yapping her head off because nobody will keep her company in bed. She was in heaven yesterday with Martha and Evie. Hannah is working and Woody still hasn’t worked out how to use the cat flap.

This is the first day it hasn’t been raining for ages. It is almost worrying.

Just now, out looking to see where Woody has got too. I see a flash of white in the hen run and wait for him. He spends a lot of time in there. I hear voices chattering on the road, in a language I don’t recognise and being nosey I wait to see who it is. Three young men walk past the end of the lane, each of them carrying bags of groceries. There are a lot of people from SE Asia staying around here. They looked like they might be planning a party. I do hope so. Somebody has to.

One of my Christmas presents was a collection of short films from Martha and Evie’s dad. The following pictures are screenshots from the films.

I

The Big Shop

The big shop begins with a list, a list carefully curated to the last ounce of caster sugar. But first I have the last Christmas present to buy, a task somewhat hindered by the future recipient of the last Christmas present being in my company. Never daunted, I give her a tenner to browse TK Maxx while I peruse H&M. Sadly, H&M has been cleared out of the best stuff but I buy something anyway. I meet Martha (for it is she) in TK Maxx to find that nothing has caught her fancy. She has other ideas. I am frogmarched to Superdrug where she spends her tenner on lip oil and other essential cosmetics that did not exist in my young day. 

On to Tescos where I discover that my carefully curated list has been left on the kitchen table. I panic slightly and call a crisis meeting with Martha. She reassures me that it will be OK and I bring forward the motion that no matter what happens we will HAVE FUN. 

So, caster sugar. I remembered that. Off to the home baking shelves where we were stopped by a young man carrying a tub of baking powder.

He asked,

Is this the same thing as baking soda?

Both of us,

No. It's not.

Me,

Is it for a recipe?

He,

Yes.

Me,

You'll definitely need baking soda then. It's in a similar tub.

Martha,

Look! There it is!

Talk about grateful. He couldn't thank us enough. Most gratifying.

On to the caster sugar.

Me,

Can you see any Martha?

Woman beside us,

I'm looking for caster sugar too.

Martha,

I can't see any. Would golden caster sugar do?

Me to woman,

Is it for a recipe?

Woman,

Yes. My friend and I are making a pavlova.

Me,

You'll definitely need ordinary caster sugar then. It will keep the meringue pale. Try Lidls. They always have caster sugar.

Me to Martha,

Get us. Baking consultants. Don't forget to tell your mother.

I bought the golden caster sugar and everything that was on the left-behind list except fruit and three kinds of cream. I can get that in the local Spar. The bit more I spend will be offset by fuel costs.

Yet I still need to go into town tomorrow. Pet supplies, dog treats, a new peanut feeder for the birds and another Kong. Bert lost one today. It was Cleo's favourite toy.

How did that happen?

They were annoying me with it so I threw it over the shed roof.

But over the shed roof means it always ends up in the midden*.

I forgot the midden was there.

*Midden - dunghill**

**Dunghill - big pile of cow shite

 

Jig Teases Him

 Our one and only grandson is eight years old today.

Happy birthday James. See you in October.

Portrush Again

There was a stiff sea breeze in Portrush yesterday and it was lovely. Blew away the cobwebs, and blew away my boredom. Or it could have been Curry's (formerly Barry's) that elevated my mood. The general air of excitement in the air was catching. Personally, I had no intention of participating in any of the rides on offer - don't fancy being all shaken up at this stage of my life. Still, I did enjoy watching Martha, Evie and Hannah thrill-seeking and having fun.

Not that Bert and I spent our entire time watching other people go on rides - we had coffee, wandered around, people-watched, went to the pub for half an hour then wandered around some more. Then back to Curry's to take some pictures just to prove that we were there.

And what of our dogs? They were going to be home alone and this had been a little worrying. Bert had put out a few feelers for someone to call in on them and Locky was the one who stepped up, went beyond the call of duty, and walked the extra mile. He called out at 2pm and stayed until we got home just after five. When we got back all dogs plus Locky and Phoenix were pretty chilled. That was nice.

It was a great outing, enjoyed by us all. I wonder how many more there will be. Martha reckons we'll still be taking them for a fun day out in Curry's when she's twenty. I'm not sure about that. She might have something else she wants to be at when she's not a teenager any more. Who knows?

Martha's first visit to Barry's. Not many tokens were needed in those days.

2015 - the first big fun day out.

2016 - the year Ben came

Tamer rides back then

2018

2022 - Riding the carousel for old times sake

Oh The Excitement

 

Cleo will be going to Portglenone tomorrow to receive her next inoculation, get chipped and consult the vet about a rather embarrassing problem. We don't like to talk about it but she did have her first bath this evening using 'special' shampoo and we have changed her name to Fleo.

I have spent the last couple of days watching the results of the local elections come in and got very excited by it all. Only two of my preferences were elected, numbers 1 and 4. Our area, Bannside had the highest turnout in the area. It's a pity they mostly voted for the Dinosaur Parties.

When I was a kid I thought that the wearing of spectacles signified a high intelligence. If so, Evie (above) must be very clever as she is wearing six pairs at once. She did hear this weekend that she has been accepted to her first choice of grammar school. Well done Evie.

The excitement continues. Tomorrow I will be purchasing a new phone. Miss Sara will be coming with me to ensure I do nothing foolish.

P.S. I'm sure that's not a strong drink in Bert's right hand. It's probably indigestion medicine.

Evie's Concert And Other Matters

 Yesterday evening Bert and I went to see Evie and around 70 other young musicians give an open-air concert in Antrim Castle Grounds and it was wonderful. 

It was definitely a joyous and inspiring way to spend an hour or so although I did feel a bit emotional at times. Firstly when a Year 12 String Quartet played a piece from Palladio which was so heartfelt and beautiful that I welled up. And again, when the orchestra played A Million Dreams and I thought of Ava who would have been twelve this summer. 

But that's music. It makes us feel. As it should.

We had Evie all day today as her school is a polling station and today was the local council elections. I voted early. Nine candidates were on the ballot sheet of which five were DUP and TUV which meant I could only give preferences to the other four. I suspect I might be the only person on this road who put the man from Portglenone first.

Later on, I collected Martha from school and on the drive home I discovered that she has well-thought-out political opinions. This pleases me very much. They're her own too. I think that the voting age should be lowered to at least sixteen. After all, if doddery old farts can vote why not the mid-teens?

That Was The Week That Was

My Anglo-Irish visitors arrived on Sunday evening. I met them at the airport where James was one of the first off the plane. He jumped up and down with excitement when he spotted me. I would have liked to do that too but, y'know, knees...

I told him,

We don't have the van anymore. We have another car.

He is obsessed with motor vehicles

He said,

Is it a Tesla?

He is particularly obsessed with Tesla cars and was disappointed that Santa Claus did not bring him one at Christmas. This is despite him being ten years too young to hold a driving licence.

I told him it wasn't a Tesla and he asked,

Is it a Landrover?

Fraid not, James. It's a Jeep.

Monday

We had an at-home day. Evie and her parents came out after lunch. Martha had a prior engagement, a sleepover birthday party which sounded exciting. There was an Easter Egg Hunt in the woods and all three children returned laden with chocolate eggs.  

It was lovely to have my three daughters all together and half-listen to the buzz of conversation between them. I made a curried fish pie. Emily told me she hated it. What's not to love about a five-year-old with strong opinions? James has particular food requirements and supper for him is either spag bol or Weetabix. He chose Weetabix. I didn't mind. 

On Tuesday Hannah and I had planned a visit to Portglenone Forest and a picnic with all four of the grandchildren. Zoe intended to spend the day planting native trees in the wood. This didn't happen. When she arrived at the sleepover house to pick Martha up she found that Martha had just had a trampolining accident and had injured her foot so it was off to Accident and Emergency with them. Hannah and I took the rest of the children to Portglenone and Martha was very much missed.

Wednesday

Everyone except Nellybert and Hannah went to the Titanic Experience. Martha had her foot in a cast and she got a complimentary wheelchair. There was a slight worry that they might bump into Joe Biden and get caught up in traffic jams but this did not happen. The President was in a different part of town. I'm told that they did see a huge amount of police on the motorway and it was obvious that they were in riot vehicles as many of them bore the scars of rocks on their bodywork. Happily, there was no trouble in the city during Biden's visit. 

James was most impressed with Belfast. Under his direction, we spent a couple of hours making a city. This involved using all my printer paper and a bunch of Sharpies and drawing buildings and shops and placing cars in the streets.

I was impressed by his drawing of Goliath.

Someone said,

Isn't there a church?

James wanted a church so I said I'd draw one. He said he wanted a graveyard too so he drew the gravestones and the statuary. He's keen on graveyards too and visited two when we were in Portglenone.

That was the last evening I had with my youngest grandchildren as it was off to the airport again on Thursday morning. It was sad to see them go but I made a promise to visit them all during the Autumn half-term which isn't that far away.

The Rest of Thursday

I did nothing. Leitrim Sister came round in the evening to pick up Lulu. I forgot to mention that we were looking after Lulu during the Anglo-Irish visit and she was a great favourite with the little ones. That dog deserves a medal for what she put up with.

Friday

We had the big girls out to help us collect Cleo. Yes. It was time for Cleo to come live with us. Some might say it was a shame that James and Emily didn't get to meet her but I think she had a lucky escape. James did actually get to meet her as Katy called briefly at Laura's house to see the puppies and James got down on the floor and rolled around with them to the slight consternation of his hosts. Emily missed this as she was asleep in the car.

Cleo's First Night

We were going to start her off in a crate and she cried all night. Bert had to go down and comfort her and I heard nothing. It must be hard when a pup is used to eight other familiar bodies to have to sleep alone.

Saturday

Martha and Evie were out again and Zoe, as she still had some trees to plant. While she was doing that the girls and I drove into town to buy Judy a new basket and a few other bits for the pup. Cleo got a lot of attention that day. 

No crate on Saturday night. She slept in Judy's new bed with Judy on the sofa beside her and there wasn't a peep out of her.

Today

Cleo has had a busy day helping Bert in the polytunnel. I think she will sleep well tonight. So will I.

Easter Sunday

 No chocolate yet, no roast dinner for us - we don't really do Easter. Instead, Nellybert are looking forward to the arrival of these two.

And their Mama and Granda. It's going to be a fun week.

One From Nine Years Ago

 

I meet the eldest granddaughter from the school bus.

Guess what I did today in front of Daddy? 

Your Nativity Play? 

Yes!! 

Was it good? 

Yes. 

That's brilliant. Mummy and Evie and me will be seeing it tomorrow.

(Daddy had to go a day early as he is being a Wildling tomorrow.)

Bert is looking after Evie and you and I are going shopping. 

Oh good. Can we go to Sainsburys? 

No. We're going to the Spar like we did last week. 

But Sainsburys is much better than the Spar! There are far more things to buy and it's much bigger! 

That's why I want to go to the Spar. I don't have a lot of money today and if I go to Sainsburys I'll see lots of things I'd like and I won't be able to buy them. The Spar is a bit boring but it has all the things I need...

Lip trembles.

Oh Martha! You have to let Granny decide where she wants to shop. Here, if you stop crying and be a sensible girl I'll let you phone Hannah to let her know we're ready to pick up Ziggy.

(Occasionally I look after granddoggies as well as granddaughters)

I quickly dial the number and give her the phone. Then I swap a three year old car seat for a big girl's car seat. By the time I'm finished she is at Hannah's door taking charge of Ziggy. Her mood is well improved.

As we drive off I explain to her how I make decisions about where I'm going to shop. I mention Lidls.

Oh Granny, we could go to Lidls. It's not too far out of our way and...

Then I think. Lidls doesn't bombard me with choices. It has everything I need and it has wine. The Spar does not have wine.

OK. Let's go to Lidls.

She's delighted. She must really hate Cullybackey Spar.

We go round. First thing she gets me to buy is panini. I'm pleased that she ignores biscuits and confectionary. Then I'm strongarmed into buying two scoops of shelled almonds. At least they are healthy. I pick up my fruit and veg, my butter, my Earl Grey tea. There are toys. I leave her looking at them while I look for ginger. I return moments later and she has laid some packets on the floor and is gazing upon them intently. The packets come from a stand advertised as 'Princess Accessories' and they are,

1. Plastic beads and bracelets
2. Plastic tiaras
3. Plastic high heeled shoes with ribbons

I ask her to return them to the stand in case someone steps on them. She complies like a good girl. Then she gazes into my face, Her eyes are beautiful, big and blue.

I really like the shoes Granny.

But Martha, I've already bought your Christmas present.

It doesn't have to be for Christmas Granny. It can be a replacement for the ones that Jess chewed. 

Martha. When I'm really old will you do my shopping for me?

Yes.

Will you take me everywhere I need to go?

Yes.

Her face is shining with delight and happiness. And it is not because she is looking forward to looking after me in my extreme old age, it is because she knows she is 'getting the shoes'. Then she chose the yellow ones and the pink ones for her sister.

I so adore being a Granny.

Cleo

 

Evie said she'd never held such a young dog before. She is cuddling Rosa. Martha has Belle, mostly black and almost invisible. Bert has his pick, our pup, on his lap. 

HER NAME IS CLEO!

Then mother dog Tilly joined the company. 

Ink On Her Hands - Revisited

 This is a post from four years ago.

Ink On Her Hands

Some Thursdays Miss Evie alights from the school bus in something of a rage. Yesterday was one of these days. I understand this for the trials of Year 3 must be difficult for a young person. She was crying frustrated tears, I went to take her little paw but she pulled it away. Why? She had ink on her hands. And she had - the sort of thick and sticky ink contained in cheap ballpoint pens.

So we had to go to the bus station toilets. There were quite a few people waiting on the seats for it was a cold and windy day. I looked meaningfully at a young man with a holdall on the seat beside him. He removed it and I sat down because I knew it might be a long time before Evie and Martha would emerge. There was some light conversation with the other people waiting while behind the toilet door I could hear Evie’s frustrated sobs and Martha attempting to soothe her. Then the outside door opened and a tall young man burst in shouting.

You have to help me! You have to help me!

We all looked at him with interest. I don’t know what the other people thought but my guess was a medical emergency and that the bus station staff would take care of it. First aid, ambulances, that sort of thing. Probably happens all the time at bus stations.

He went on,

My girlfriend was on the train but she couldn’t open the door! And now she’s gone and she’s a foreigner and she won’t know what to do!

The person behind the desk explained to the young man that she couldn’t do anything as it was a matter for the railway staff and he’d have to ask them to help. But the next stop was Cullybackey and his friend could always get off there.

The young man was sobbing and distraught. He left the waiting room and another young fellow got up to see if he could help him which I thought very kind of him. But he was back in soon after as there was nothing to be done.

Meanwhile, Martha opens the door and says,

Granny, we need your help.

I went in. Evie still had ink on her hands and it wasn’t shifting. I told her not to worry as I had special stuff at home that would take it off and that mollified her. We left the waiting area.

The young man who had lost his girlfriend was outside, still distraught. It occurred to me that I was going to Cullybackey and that, teens of years ago, I’d have involved myself in his drama and ended up regretting it. But I didn’t because, for all I know, his girlfriend (if she even was his girlfriend) might have looked out to the platform, saw him, and thought to herself,

I’m not too sure about this one. I’m not getting off this train!

And we had our own drama to contend with. The ink on Evie’s hands.

When we got home I mixed sugar and cooking oil into a paste and Evie rubbed it into her hands and most of the ink disappeared. I told her the rest would wear off and that the sugar and oil paste was a trick I learned from her Great-Grandmother Martha. She was OK after that.

Semi Flimsy Ivies

 

Summer-born Pippin has taken a while to get used to the cooler weather, but now that the snow is here she cannot be kept indoors. She has fallen in love with her winter wonderland.

It's my youngest granddaughter's fifth birthday today and I've been thinking about her all day, wishing she could be here to build a snowman (or snowcat) and play with Pippin. I did get to speak with Emily on the phone this evening which was lovely.

If all goes according to plan both Emily and her brother James will be here next Easter holidays. Something for me to look forward to. I shall knit her a girly cardigan all pink stripes and embroidered flowers. There is no point in knitting James anything. He doesn't care about clothes. All he wants is a Tesla car. A proper one as Santa Claus did not oblige.

James and Emily

Lunch With Martha

Another day out in which I realise that my brush with coronavirus has thoroughly depleted my energy. Thankfully, my oldest grandchild is very understanding. We lunched at Bob & Bert's (Martha's second choice as Middletown was packed) and it was good.  Then on to the shops. We browsed Cameron's, H&M and TK Maxx and bought nothing. The charity shops offered more interesting and affordable choices. I bought a thermal vest and a Barbara Kingsolver and Martha bought denim dungarees, a bright yellow raincoat and a slinky dress which I didn't really approve of but hey-ho at her age it's all about experimentation, isn't it. She can take it back if it's not right for her.

I wore my new Blundstone boots and felt rather good in them. On the way back Martha (who was walking backwards) said,

Hey Granny! I'm walking backwards and I'm still walking faster than you!

I said, 

Of course, you are. I'm nearly 70. You're lucky I'm walking at all.

That led to a conversation about how long I intended to live. I sensed that optimism was called for. I said I was aiming for 95 or thereabouts and that seemed to please her.

Isn't it odd that a conversation about mortality should warm the cockles of my heart so? For I know that at her age a quarter of a century hence must seem like a fantastical leap into the future. I'll do my best to live until then but if I don't I'm sure she'll be fine.

Tonight she is playing the ukelele at her school's open night.

In Which Fred Narrowly Avoids A Bath

The day started off horribly wet and cold. Pigs had a duvet day. It was Pippin's first full day of freedom since her horrible accident and she enjoyed it. She actually chose to spend time in her cage although the door was left unlocked so she could leave when she wanted. 

I went shopping before I picked up the girls and bought a new bed for Judy and another clothes airer. Since the rise in electricity prices, I have decided to drastically cut down the use of the tumbler dryer. The drive to empty the big freezer is going slowly - too slowly. I managed to stew some raspberries and whitecurrants today and made a plan for rhubarb and ginger jam. There is a strange fish in there which I intend to defrost tomorrow. 

Evie arrived covered in mud, something to do with falling on the grass. I was reminded of Fred, who turned up the other day absolutely clarried in muck. I couldn't understand how it had happened. The muck didn't smell foul but it had an oily quality to it and wasn't easy to get off his fur. Brushing it out made a start and the rest of it dried out and disappeared after a couple of days. That old boy is too old to be bathed. He would despise it.

After discovering a lot of fur (that flew) in the woodshed, Bert reckons he had a territory fight with another cat. Recently Fred has been spending a lot of time there and it's likely there is a nest of ratlings in there, somewhere. The rival cat must have tumbled him into the resiny, sludgy effluent that runs off the logs. But no harm done, he's fine now, spending more time indoors and tolerating Pippin following him everywhere he goes.

At the end of the evening, Martha showed me how to edit my videos and in return, I gave her a masterclass on the history of popular music from The Monkees to the Pixies. The only tracks she knew were Monkey Goes to Heaven and Smells Like Teen Spirit. Next week she is going to teach me how to suck eggs.

In other news, I discovered I have five of the Cazalet Chronicles and have started reading number one. Sadly. two of the five were duplicates and they are already donated to the Tesco charity bookshelf. I think I'm going to enjoy this reading adventure.

Sieve Eel Vein

Miss Evie's birthday is today. I baked her a cake on Monday, Family Meal Day, and took photographs. But they were not very good. As I get better at cake my photography declines. This was the best of them.

The Day We Went To Portrush

 

The (not so) little monsters are in Connemara camping and I hope they get fine weather. Just before they left, we went on the traditional trip to Barry’s (now Curry’s) in Portrush. We missed the last two years due to Covid and during that time we heard worrying news. Barry’s was to be sold! It was such a shame as Evie had gotten almost tall enough to ride the Big Dipper and now it seemed she'd never get the chance.

Barry's went on the market in 2019. The Trufelli family who'd started the business in 1928 had hoped that it would continue as an amusement park but it seemed that might not happen. There was even talk of the site being used for apartments. If life was ever going to get back to normal just where were we going to find a decent roller coaster that didn't involve a lengthy car ride?

When the girls were little they were perfectly content to go on carousels, kiddy bumper cars and giant teacups. The Big Dipper, waltzers and the Ghost Train were far too scary and they wouldn't have met the height requirement for some rides. .

On the train to Portrush

Three years ago Martha was tall enough to go on the Big Dipper. Evie was hopeful that she would have grown enough the following year but was not to be. Coronavirus shut Barry's down at the same time as Evie gained those few needful centimetres.

When we first heard the news that Barry's Amusements was to become Curry's Fun Park we were so happy. It opened at Easter and Martha might have dropped a few hints about going then but the very beginning of the summer holidays is our time. There might have been concerns that the rides wouldn't be as good, or that the Big Dipper would be dismantled, and my own private worry - that the Big Dipper would still be there but the height requirement might have increased. We needn't have worried. 

2016 was the year Ben came with us.

On the waltzer with Ben. That was one of the rides where younger children had to be accompanied by an adult. Ben was not quite 18 but he passed muster. The previous year I'd almost thrown up after going on the waltzer.

I gave it a go this year and managed not to get queasy which was pleasing. But I don't seem to be as limber as I was six years ago. The seating was awfully low and as I said to Bert afterwards,

I thought I was going to have to get one of the attendants to pull me out but I managed it on my own.

Then Martha said,

Granny! You crawled out of it on your hands and knees!

Evie did ride the Big Dipper. She was rather pale when she alighted and said just the one time would be enough.

Aboard the Big Wheel in 2019.  

Martha's very first visit to Barry's Amusements. 

Return to the carousel, 2022