The second card made me cry. The envelope had Aunt’s handwriting, and I was unprepared for the emotional impact of the contents.
Birthday Card
She must have taken it to Mother a couple of weeks ago. The poignancy of the wobbly signature, the way she had obviously struggled to sign her name, made the breath catch in my throat. Fortunately, I caught myself on and opened a third card of a cycling guinea pig and that made me laugh, so back on track for a happy birthday. Continue reading
I just read this email from my cousin Helen. She had been showing Aunt Kath the post and the comments.
“Just managed to prise Mum away from your blog. That was a real success although she couldn’t read the comments she could see the pictures and the bold headings and loved it.
Well done, some lovely comments from your friends.”
Thank-you, everyone. Warm fuzzy moments all round.
The best of aunts, my Aunt Kath is ninety-six today. Here she is with her twin brother, my Uncle Sid,
May the world always hold happy surprises, and the tree of life offer you safety, shelter and adventure…
Many Happy Returns of the Day.
Hope you have a fab birthday!
I’m flying around trying to leave the flat in some semblance approaching order, and failing; putting things into the car, trying, and failing again, to pacify Cat who thinks I’ve spent far too little time with him this week and would like to sit on me. He’s already been hinting that it’s bedtime by sitting in the bathroom. I am going to bed soon as I am, in vulgar parlance, knackered. But before I go, I’d like you all to charge your glasses and raise them to My Mum, who is ninety-one today.
She was baptised at home because they thought she was weak and sickly and wouldn’t last. So rather than a risk a burial in unconsecrated ground, the church minister was called in. They hadn’t reckoned on her determination. My father used to say she was like a terrier; she wouldn’t let go of something she wanted. Life evidently fell into that category.
She’s fought battles for her own survival, battles for her loved ones, including me, obviously. I have quite a few stories I could tell in that area that I may or may not share one day. She still has the smile that made my father fall in love with her, and despite the dementia, she’s the best mum in the world, and I am very lucky. Continue reading
Tomorrow, had he lived, my father would be ninety.
I find it hard to believe it’s nearly twenty years since he died. Mother has a photograph of him on that last birthday, the one where he turned seventy, on the sideboard.
He’s reading The London Encyclopaedia, my present to him, and I took the picture. He’s sitting next to the regulator; his pride and joy.
When he was demobbed after the war he worked with my grandfather as a horologist. A bit of a change from his service career as a Royal Marine Commando. Continue reading
It wasn’t a very promising start. Grey skies, rain still falling, temperatures well below the seasonal average. More March than May. I was relieved to find I had closed the car’s sunroof, but it felt like a ‘count your blessings’ day rather than a ‘whoopee’ one. The friends who had planned to visit and I exchanged text messages. Why come if the day was going to be a washout?
But they did. And it was great. More than great; fabulous.
The rain stopped. We went to the pub and had a really good meal. Steve drove back, while Patou and I walked the dog along the footpath.
When your friends enthuse about something and somewhere you have come to love, it’s a great feeling. As the skies turned blue to give us a glorious and entirely unexpected end to the afternoon, they were already planning their next trip here. And buying a boat. We kept Cat and Dog separate by closing the door to the aft cabin where Cat was enjoying his afternoon nap, and passing Dog through the window of the fore cabin. Dog was curious but not aggressive. He modeled Cat’s lifejacket, sniffed the cabin interestedly, and conquered the biscuit ball. None of us had a camera. Next time.
Their son called and asked when he could visit. We laughed and joked; discussed the various family problems we have to deal with; laughed some more.
When they left, I had a warm, fuzzy, contented feeling.
By good luck, and great timing on my parents’ part, I was born on 1st May, which an enlightened government a few decades ago decided should be a Bank Holiday to celebrate Labour Day, which may have made Mother feel her efforts bringing me into the world had at last been recognised.
The only down side is that lots of people take off for the weekend, so you can feel a Billy-No-Mates if you want to celebrate the day.
Well, that’s my excuse for coming east for das Boot with Cat.
We got here yesterday evening after a journey that was less grim than I had anticipated. The forecast for the weekend was so dreadful, maybe some people decided to stay home and clean the windows. It did rain in the night, but today has been gorgeous. One of those absolutely perfect spring days. I forgot my camera or I’d nauseate you with pictures of trees in full blossom; bluebells; little goslings; blue blue skies with wispy clouds; roads where trees parade every shade of green; fields of acidic yellow rape.
Cat stayed aboard while I spent the day with Mother. She was on form, only getting our relationship in a muddle as the afternoon drew to a close. We opened the door into the garden; chose places to hang some pictures; lunched in sunshine and drank quantities of apple juice.
‘What do you call this?’ asked Mother.
‘Apple juice.’
‘It’s lovely. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.’
Her joy in ‘discovering’ apple juice every time she has it, is about the only positive thing about her dementia. My aunt had bought a card and some chocolates for her to give me. I had to thank her and gently take them out of her hands before she opened them.
Now it’s a quiet evening on das Boot with Cat and the crossword. I’ve eaten a huge meal and friends are coming tomorrow.
The rain has just started. I’d batten down the hatches if I had any. As it is I’m making do with shutting the doors and the windows. Apparently we’re in for a huge storm at about four in the morning.
Not Cat’s favourite weather conditions, so it may be quite a night.
I’ve decided to save the champagne until tomorrow.
