I Wish It Would Rain

 

Bert heading out to a funeral in a heatwave.

It won't be too formal, I said, fine for a funeral on a day like this, in fact, you might even wear something like that to Naoise's wedding.

Afterwards, I asked the usual questions.

Good turn-out? 

Yes.

See anyone you know? 

A few. It was an eclectic gathering, and his wee sisters carried the coffin.

Then there was Martha's show. She is part of her school's drama club, an enthusiastic member. and she really wanted me to come. It was an interactive performance of George's Marvellous Medicine and it was great.There was a 75% turnout of grandparents on Martha's team and we had to watch a lot of actors* playing George's dreadful grandma. I don't know about the other two grandparents but Im sure I am nothing like that. I did see a hint of Pearlie though although she was nowhere near as horrible. it was a hoot from beginning to end and in my opinion, we need to pay teachers more.

Afterwards, I popped over to Tescos to pick up a few items. It seems like late summer evenings are the best time to go supermarket shopping apart from some of the shelves looking a bit bare. Thankfully there were no gaps in the Italian wine department. I met an old acquaintance there, the guy who used to fix my washing machines. It wasn't his only talent as he's also a fine fiddle player and played in bands back in the day. Sadly he'd given it up, and said he lost interest when the girls stopped throwing their underwear on stage.

That made me think, for though it often seems these days that the world has gone completely mad, it always was a crazy place.

Tony

* George's Marvellous Medicine features four main characters. The actors changed with each scene and no, it wasn't confusing, and it gave everyone a chance to shine.

It's All About Cleo

 

Cleo has been enjoying the summery weather as much as anyone - riding the quad with Bert...

Meeting Arlo for the first time. They had a lot of fun. He's just a few weeks older than her and they are going to be great friends.

She went to Bracknamuckley Wood for the second time. Although it might be the last time for a while as the Bann is moving slowly these hot, dry days and something floating at the edge looks like the blue-green algae (not really an algae) that can be lethal for dogs.

In other news, we had a hectic weekend. I cooked my first vegan meal (a curry) for Hannah's friends on Friday. And on Saturday we had Marty and Jazzer, Arlo and Dora for a sleepover. Other visiting dogs included Phoenix, Pippin, Tegan and Rex. The yard was a total health hazard.

Plans for this week are looser. Tomorrow is family dinner which will need to be yummy to console Zoe for the damage Rusty did to her potato rigs. Wednesday is a funeral and Thursday Evie, maybe Martha. We will need to make plans for Portrush. The girls have told me they are still not too old for the annual trip to Curry's Fun Park* 

*Formerly Barry's.

Fifteen Years Ago In Kerry

Tomorrow came and I started looking for pictures to illustrate a post on my recent visit to Kerry. I even went on Flickr! Then fell down a Dingle Peninsula rabbit hole of memories.

Remembered that fifteen years ago I fled to Kerry only days after Pearlie came to live with us. I brought Paddy Dog with me and he was tremendously well-behaved apart from stealing Scruff's bed.

Scruff, always the gentleman, was the perfect host. Fifteen years ago, so of course they're all gone now. 

Three of the best dogs that ever barked.

We climbed Mount Brandon then, even me! It was no bother to the dogs. 

Sadly, the mist was on the mountain that day and I wasn't able to get the view. No matter, I'd seen it before and I hope, I really hope to see it again. Older than me have climbed that hill.

Another picture from that trip. Bert's clematis to the fore, The mountain behind. 

There is something about the place. On the last day I was there we watched a short film about Mount Brandon. About the hill and some people who live beneath it. The brother-in-law features in it. When I climb the hill again I will bring a stick and when I reach the peak I will roar like a lioness.

The Link  to An Cnoc

https://www.tg4.ie/en/player/play/?pid=6323948255112&title=An%20Cnoc&series=C%C3%A9ad%20Seans&pcode=665662&genre=Faisneis

Journey

 I got back last night from a three-night trip to West Kerry. Short skip down to Cullybackey train station, then Belfast, Enterprise to Dublin Connolly, Luas to Heuston for the Cork train, change at Mallow and detrain at Farranfore. Then the drive to Dingle and beyond. I started my journey just before six am and was sitting in Kerry Sister's kitchen at half-four. 

The return journey wasn't as straightforward. Started at eleven in the morning, and had an hour's gap in Dublin. Then the Enterprise was running late and I missed the train I'd hoped to get in Belfast. Then when I got off the train at Cullybackey Bert wasn't waiting for me! Bad husband. He turned up ten minutes later and poo-poohed my annoyance because it wasn't even cold. 

And between those two journeys, I had the loveliest time with my Kerry family which I'll share tomorrow and maybe a picture or two as well.

More Cake

 

There was more birthday cake yesterday when the girls were here for supper. Rhubarb and Almond cake, a new one for me. I thought it was a bit stodgy but that didn't stop me from eating it. 

There are a whole series of pictures of Bert and those two with birthday cakes. This one is from ten years ago.

Today I went to lunch with Jazzer. There is no photographic record of this event. We did a little light shopping afterwards in Antrim town where she acquired some pre-loved garments and I bought a copy of The Dud Avocado which was on my reading wish list. I had a good opportunity to read the first chapter in the Asda car park while Jazzer went in for a 'couple of things'. As always she was about half an hour. Bert has remarked before that when she goes into a shop she generally picks up a shift stacking shelves. I didn't really mind as the book was good. Turned out she got into a really slow queue and then, on leaving, the alarm went off and she had to have her receipt checked. Somebody forgot to take the tag off her new summer shorts. I'd have been raging if that had happened to me.

Back home to find Bert had eaten nearly all the pizza from Bamber Pizzeria. Fair play to him as no one had taken him out for lunch. He left me just enough to know it was yummy.

Afterwards, we had the sad task of taking an expired chicken out to the woods for the foxes to feast upon. But who could be sad in the woods on such a beautiful evening? Not us, certainly not Cleo.

When He's Sixty-Four

On awakening this morning I thought it was Monday and started wondering what needed doing. While pondering this, it dawned on me that it was Sunday and there was nothing I needed to do. It was a lovely feeling - like I'd been given an extra day of life.

So - what did I do with my extra day?

I finished reading the book that the postman delivered yesterday.

It's not the first time I've read a book in such a short time but it's been a while. It was easy, too easy. Back to the reading pile where I'm still plodding through Sam McBride's Burned and Sheri Fink's Five Days At Memorial, starting to really enjoy Edith Wharton's House of Mirth which came as an indirect recommendation from Ganching and the discovery of two copies on my bookshelves. I finished F For Ferg a few days ago, a loan from Hannah.

I'd always wanted to read Ian Cochrane but the novels were out of print for years. He's a Northern Irish writer and F For Ferg appears to be set in Cullybackey.

So what else did I do with this additional day of life?

I made Bert breakfast and played him a particular Beatles track that alluded to a special day. 

Yes indeed - I still need him and I still feed him. I even baked him a birthday cake, his favourite - Victoria Sponge with cream and raspberry jam. And guess what? We only had marmalade, so you know what I did? I found a bag of frozen raspberries in the freezer and made raspberry jam. 

Happy Birthday Bert. You're the best and you're worth it.

River Deep - Mountain High

I don't usually have much to say about famous people dying because if I did I'd be blogging about nothing else for sure don't they die every week.

But then there is Tina Turner and I wasn't even that much of a fan. Except for River Deep - Mountain High which I must have heard first in my early teens and was blown away by it. Her voice, the lyrics, the production. It is because of Tina Turner that I've never cared for insipid music. I want the power and the passion. 

I checked Wikipedia for when it was first released. I'd have been thirteen. It did well in Europe, but didn't take off in the USA. Then, after Eric Burdon and the Animals did a cover version (I've only just heard it!) it was re-released in 1969. That's when it got me.

After listening to the Animal's version of River Deep on YouTube, it went straight to King Crimson playing Starless from all of eight years ago. I wasn't a King Crimson fan back in my teens but YouTube obviously knows that I'm all grown-up now.  

Wikipedia also informed me that Deep Purple also did a cover of River Deep - Mountain High but I'll listen to that later. I'm enjoying King Crimson too much.

Anyway, thanks, Tina. You were great. 

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?

Granny Buns

Granny Buns

 

That picture is supposed to be me! I got it as a free add-on from a genealogy site. Upload 20 or so photographs and receive images depicting Nelly through the ages. The one above is a 1950s-style illustration.

The reason I like the image (despite it looking nothing like me) is that cosy, smiling, maternal woman is how I sometimes like to see myself. The sort of woman who makes her own jam and would knock up a batch of delicious scones at the drop of a hat. The kindly person who would never let anyone leave her house hungry. The sort of kitchen goddess who is never happier when cooking delicious food for people she cares about. One of the younger family members used to call my mother Granny Buns because every time she came to visit Matty baked fairy cakes. Perhaps that Granny Buns above is my alter ego.

Instead, I am a woman who has up and down moods. Sometimes I’m lovely and sometimes I’m not. I blame my parents who, when I was a curly-haired moppet would recite this poem,

There was a little girl,

            Who had a little curl,

Right in the middle of her forehead.

            When she was good,

            She was very good indeed,

But when she was bad she was horrid.

So when I’m feeling frazzled, down in the dumps or ‘horrid’ it affects my cooking. That is what happened last week when I had Zoe and family around. I was out of sorts. The dessert, a simple steamed pudding, turned out well but my potato dish and the broccoli were close to indigestible. Was it me and my glum mood? Or was it the weather in Spain? Maybe it was Brexit. Whatever the reason we all put on a brave face and were consoled by pudding.

So what upset my stomach? Was it the undercooked broccoli, the second helping of pudding or old age? Whatever it was I had a tummy ache, trapped wind and threw up before bedtime. Five days later I still don’t feel right. I may phone the doctor for some magic pills to make it all go away.

Here's hoping that I can get my act together by Tuesday when they're all back for supper. I'm already consulting Feast supplement in the Guardian. There will be no shop-bought broccoli. Go Granny Buns!

Coronation Weekend

They were my second favourite socks. They were comfortable and just putting them on cheered me up. Cleo chewed the toe out of one and they are now in the bin.

This log basket was a 31st birthday present from Kerry Sister. It's been around a long time. Up until a few days ago it was in tip-top condition. Then Cleo fell to it with her wee needly teeth.

Well might she look hang-dog. She just got a telling-off for bullying Pippin who is far too soft with the pup. She should take lessons from Fred who will take no nonsense from Cleo.

 

Then we had the pleasure of Martha's company for three nights. Her fracture prevented her from going on a planned camping trip with her family so she spent it with us. I took her for lunch at Creative Gardens which was delightfully empty thanks to the CrownFest in London. Who'd have guessed that the folk who frequent upmarket garden centres would be the sort of people glued to their screens when there's a bit of monarchy-related pageantry going on.

Then, taking advantage of the quiet highways, we motored to Antrim so Martha could meet Marty and Jazzer's new pup. His name is Arlo, he is two weeks older than Cleo and quite a lot bigger. We expect to see a great deal of him in future months.

Whilst at the Banjos, we called into Marty's music room. Although it has the look of a pub about it no strong drink was served.

I really like what Marty has done with the mirrors from Pearlie's old dresser.

I had mentioned to Martha that Antrim had a really good sweet shop, well worth a visit so that's where we went next. The customer service was first class despite Martha taking ages to decide what she wanted. 

Saturday night was pizza and wine/fruit juice and The Big Lebowski. 

Sunday was a quiet day for us as Martha went on a jaunt to Montalto with Auntie Hannah and her friends. Martha didn't do too badly for outings for a girl on crutches. 

And what of the Coronation? Didn't see a bit of it. That's two in a row I've missed now. Though I did see some photographs. Their crowns did not become them. 

And What Of The Pup?

 

 And what of Cleo?

Cleo is, without doubt, the cheekiest, baddest, rudest, filthiest, most villainous pup we have ever met.

She is also the sweetest, funniest, smartest and most adorable pup in the world.

So really, she’s just an average pup.

To give an example of what we are living with I’ll tell you about this morning. I came down and there were no pees or shit on the floor. When I took her outside she peed straight away. I was delighted with her, gave lots of praise, then brought her inside to fetch a reward. And she got so excited about getting a treat that she made another little puddle on the floor. I never paid it any notice as I didn’t want to confuse her.

About twenty minutes later she deposited a little heap on the kitchen floor then another very long thin one which turned out to be a strip of black silage bale wrapping. Bloody farmers. That wrapping gets everywhere. Were it up to me I'd ban it.

She goes upstairs to see Bert and I go about my morning routine, drinking coffee, doing Wordle, drinking more coffee, finishing my book.*

Then I go upstairs. She has chewed lumps out of my special knee cushion I use when the old knees are playing up. That's twenty quid she owes me. There is a shredded toilet roll all over the floor and a pair of knickers on the stairs. She has pulled the towels off the dryer and pruned my geranium. I thought Bert was keeping an eye on her but he's fast asleep.

Evie asked me this afternoon,

Do you love her yet?

I replied,

Nearly. It will take another couple of weeks still.

Black plastic silage wrapping is not the only thing that annoys me. People who mow the grass verges in front of their houses is a pet hate. Their need to be ‘tidy’ will be the ruination of the natural world.. Also, there is nothing attractive about shaved yellowing grass.

I had to buy vegetable seeds this morning. Our closest garden shop is in Galgorm Castle grounds. The verges there are cut about six feet on either side of the road, the rest left wild. It was a sea of cuckoo flower cardamine pratensis and was so lovely to see. When I was a child meadows weren’t as scarce as they are today and cuckoo flowers were abundant at this time of the year. I didn’t know then that the orange tip butterflies, so commonplace then, were dependent on the cuckoo flower as a breeding plant. So, more wild areas, less shaved verges and more butterflies, moths and pollinating insects.

This is when I find Cleo most lovable

*The book I finished this morning was The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker and I really enjoyed it. A tough read in parts but well worth it. 

Another Trip To Rathlin Island

 

My youngest sister and I both have special birthdays this year. You know - the ones that end with a zero. I asked her if there was anything that she wanted to mark the day because, ten years ago, when I was the age that she is now she made me a piece of jewellery which I rarely take off. But Leitrim Sister didn't want a present - she wanted an experience. And as she'd never been to Rathlin Island that's where we went.

We went over on the fast boat which was fast and freezing, Then coffee and scones at the Manor House the minute we got off the boat.  It's a welcoming place which we returned to for a late lunch mid-afternoon. Recommended.

Of course, we walked to Seal Bay and spotted seals and of course, we got the Puffin Bus and visited the Sea Bird Sanctuary. Despite it being a tad early in the season there were puffins. Leitrim Sister was keen to spot a golden hare but that was not to be.

Seal Bay from the kelp house.

It was too early for seal pups. 

Eider ducks from whence eiderdown comes. It is claimed to be sustainable but I am not so sure. 

It was a good day out in good company and I will return.

A Dozen Years

 A collage for Matty's twelfth anniversary. One with each of her seven children. Let the pictures tell the story. She was well-loved and she loved well.

Looking Back At Looking Forward

 

A post from six years ago and I still haven't come to grips with the crochet hook.

I've been thinking about this Senior Citizen thing coming up next March and it seems I should be making some lifestyle changes.

I say to Bert,

When I'm an Old Age Pensioner I am going to have ROUTINES. For instance, I'll always go shopping on one particular day. And I'll start liking Marie biscuits.

Oh yes?

And I'll have a regular shampoo and set and wear lilac cardigans and suede sandals from Hotter.

Uh-huh.

I'll watch the soaps, Emmerdale and Coronation Street.

You should.

I'll start going to church.

Really?

Oh yes. And Daniel O'Donnell will be my new favourite singer and I may even learn to perform a gentle jive.

You're on your own with that one.

I'm taking up crochet. I'll make crocheted blankets for my even older friends.

Good idea.

Later on, as we breakfast on boiled eggs and toasted wheaten bread I say,

Another thing. When I'm an OAP I shall eat like a bird. Old people do that.

What?

What do you mean, what? How come you were able to accept all the other stuff I might do and not that I could become a light eater?

Well. I could see you having a regular shampoo and set and starting to crochet but I can't imagine you ever losing your appetite.

Cheeky bugger.

Oh Bertram

 Sometimes I wonder why I write this blog because there is very little going on in this life of mine. And yet, I love it, love it so much that I want at least 25 more years of it.

That number must seem crazy to young folks. Twenty-five years. An absolute lifetime and yet, no time at all. If I am allowed that extra quarter of a century I know it will fly past and, as it goes, I'll get stiffer and sorer and - I don't care, I still want it!

Even if my lovely Bert doesn't come with me - I still want it.

I showed him that picture taken about an hour ago and told him it was online already. He said,

I don't care.

A Post From 14 Years Ago

 

Bert hasn't changed much in the last 14 years. He still goes out in public like an unkempt hobo. But now that he's older he feels the cold more and no longer goes commando. 

31st May, 2009

Bert was getting ready to make a delivery yesterday morning. He was wearing a threadbare shirt, filthy cords turned up at the ankle and grubby Birkenstocks. “You’re not going to walk into a garden centre looking like that, are you?” I yapped. “These are my working clothes,” says he. “For God’s sake,” says I. “People will think you’re a tramp! At least change your trousers.” “But I have no trousers,” says he. “Your arse!” says I. “Your drawers and wardrobes are full of trousers. Wait there till I get you a pair.” I brought him down a pair of Levis and, with enough to do, he changed into them. “You can get changed back into your filthy old trousers when you get back.” I said. And so he did.

Later that evening he had the job of taking Aunt Lizzie back to Kells. After a day in the tunnels and the vegetable patch he was even dirtier than before. “Do I have to change my trousers?” he enquired. “Ach no. Sure you’ll do. You’ll only be going in somewhere to buy wine and what odds if you’re bogging. They’ll not know you and they’ll just think you’re a crazy eccentric.”

He brought home the wine. We relaxed in the cool of the evening.

“I got the wine in Kells.”

”Did you?”

”Aye. And I ran into Sam Greer. He was asking if you were still working at the place down the road. And I could see that the girl at the checkout was pricking up her ears.”

”Oh dear God! And you standing there like a dirty hobo!”

”I said you were.”

”I’m the only woman works there! They’ll connect me with you!”

”And I said to him, ‘We got married you know!’”

“You didn’t!”

“I did. And that’s not the worst of it. I looked down and weren’t my fly buttons open and my pubes sticking out!”

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.

Cats & Dogs

 

Pippin is a great favourite in our house but... she is about to be usurped.

We went to visit Cleo and her litter mates today. It's been three weeks and the pups have doubled in size. Cleo is the pup on Martha's lap. They have all found homes. We will continue to know Rollo and Bruno, Belle and (hopefully) Socks who, will have a name change if he gets to remain with his current family. Cleo is scheduled to come home with us in eight days. Excited! Very!

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.