Grannymar

There are times in life when I walk a tightrope.

Sometimes it is by choice yet on occasions it is because I am drawn into a situation or life of another person. Part of the problem is that I am more of a listener than a talker. I have always loved voices and accents. Give me Anthony Hopkins or Richard Burton and the knees go a wobbling!

Being a people person I love back stories and learning what brings people to the place in life they now inhabit. For some it is pure happenstance, while for others it is a series of unfortunate or unexpected events. Sometimes the road seems level, coloured by flowers of joy and contentment, yet for others the path is rocky and rough causing many a stumble or fall along the way.

I don’t like to see any of my friends struggling and the ‘mother’ in me wants to help. Of course my idea of help may seem like interference to somebody else. Removed from a situation we all see things differently. It is a privilege to be asked for advice and it is all the more rewarding when it is accepted, and the person is able to deal with and move on from the problem.

There is one thing sure and that is I will not be bribed. Any information entrusted to me in confidence will not be passed on.

I have no professional training, yet over the years I have listened and talked to many people from different walks of life. Only once have I failed, and failed badly in my book. The person in question at times phoned me two and three times a day. I made myself available whenever they wanted to talk. They wanted to talk and asked my advice, but for every suggestion I made they found an obstacle. These conversations went on over two years. At times they heard but didn’t listen, eventually I realised that the depressed mood was affecting me and the person in question had become so used to wallowing that it had become a way of life. They refused to seek professional help.

I stepped back. I had to. If I let the birds of depression land on my shoulders who would be there to help me? Was I selfish? Did I do wrong?

What would you do?

I have an acquaintance with a life sentence!

She has received the news none of us want to hear. The illness she has is not curable and the time scale is very short. Three young children wander about the house bewildered because they know something is wrong, yet they do not know what it is. Mum is prone to crying and dad and granny are constantly trying to reassure her.

Mum realises that she will never see her children grow up, not be there for many more birthdays, or family celebrations, or to comfort them in times of need. She worries that they might forget her. Or that they will remember her as the person always lying under a rug on the couch crying.

She has baby name tags, early pictures, bootees, baby toys and locks of hair in a treasure box. I have suggested to her to have three boxes, one for each child with their name on it, in her own handwriting. Then place the items for each child in their special box. Next I suggested that she write letters to each child in turn.

“Start writing now”, I said; “beginning with how you felt when you heard that they were expected, the planning and preparations for their arrival”. I suggested she tell them how special they are and about the little things that made her heart sing. Write about her feelings for them now, and of all the hopes and dreams she carries for them.

Put each letter in an envelope and seal it, Put each child’s name, and the date when you want them to get it, on the front. Think about this date, 18th, 21st birthdays of even on your death.

What better gift can a mother give!

While writing this I received an email from a dear friend. The attachment was a story:

The Mayonnaise Jar and 2 Cups of Coffee

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes.”

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognise that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things…. Your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favourite passions— and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.

The sand is everything else— the small stuff. “If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

“Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and put out the rubbish. Take care of the golf balls first- the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled and said, “I’m glad you asked.”

The coffee just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.

BBC Radio 4 is devoting the month of January to Care in the community. Discussions this week dealt with Dementia and Alzheimer’s. ‘Women’s Hour’ and ‘You and Yours’ approach the problems from different angles. Each day a Podcast of the programme is available, and if you have an aging parent, or are at the butt end of the nursing home jokes, they are worth a listen. There is something to learn for everybody.

One horrendous fact I learned on Wednesday was that for 2008-09 if someone foster’s a young child the allowances are about £121.68 per week. Yet if you are a full time carer for the elderly the allowances are £48.00 per week and that is means tested! If the carer earns over £100 per week the allowance is reduced. If the same patient is admitted to a Nursing Home or Home for the Elderly, the fees range from £500-£600 per week. Very often when someone ill remains within their home it falls to one person to provide the care 24/7 (£48.00), while in a Nursing home the staff change at least every eight hours providing fresh energy to look after the patient.

There is a lot to be said for a fatal heart attack!

Will the person nearest my Elly at this moment, give her the Kiss-of-Life and drag her up off the floor! I can do nothing these days because she worries about me so much.

Is she upright again?

Well then I will begin.

Following a Power cut on a Monday the other week I have experienced fluctuation with the light levels every evening. At first I thought it was my eyes. The lights dimmed but did not go out. After about an hour or sometimes two they went back to normal. Now I am not a heavy user of electricity. Lights in the living room were on as were the computer & the radio. My oil fired central heating was pumping away and the place was warm. The fridge/freezer was working normally and several clocks through the house were showing the correct time. The only problem was with the lights.

This continued to happen three nights in a row. A little worried that the power might be cut again I decided to phone my provider NIE (Northern Ireland Electricity) on the Thursday evening. I spoke to a very nice young lady and she seemed rather puzzled by my query. She was aware of the break in power on the Monday and said she would pass the message on to the engineers so that they could check things out the next day.

I explained very briefly my health situation and my need for heat, light and access to a working telephone in case of emergency. Immediately she said “You are not on our Critical list!”

“Critical List” I said “What’s that?”

She told me that NIE offers a critical care information service to customers who have health issues or are dependent on life supporting electrical equipment. Once registered with NIE they can provide up to date information during a power cut or a planned interruption. If I need to call them my number would be recognised and I would be given priority.

I never realised this service was available. Did You?

So if you live in Norn Iron and know of anyone in any of the situations listed above then tell them to call NIE. If you live anywhere else in the wider world, check out your electricity provider. Who knows when you might need the service I hope you never do.

Today is a special day for a very dear friend. None of you have met her yet you all know her!

I am talking about Nancy Leitz from Philadelphia , a very faithful follower and commenter of many blogs.

Today 2nd December is Nancy’s Birthday.

May I on my own behalf and indeed on behalf of all my fellow bloggers wish Nancy many happy returns of the day. I would like to dedicate the following little piece to Nancy.

‘The Beauty of a Woman’

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears

The figure she carries or the way she combs her hair.

The beauty of a woman must be seen from her eyes,

Because that is the doorway to her heart the place where love resides

The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole.

But true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul.

It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows,

The beauty of a woman with passing years - only grows.

Nancy, have a wonderful Birthday and I will raise a glass to you later today!

We are constantly reminded how important it is to keep a close eye on our children’s use of computers and the Internet. Now at this stage you all know I try to be a responsible mother and I do my best to check up on all Elly’s comings and goings on the ‘net’.

Since she is so far away I find it difficult to keep up to date with what she is at. You could say that all the effort has me worn out.

Now my Elly has no difficulty keeping a close eye on me! I get these ‘Now Mother!’ notes and phone calls; it might be just as well that I don’t have her living next door to me or all my secrets would be revealed!

This week she was lurking among my vital Google statistics and look what she found.

Keywords

1. grandad sex

2. wood briquettes

3. a coffee in achill

4. germs are everywhere

5. grannies toyboys

6. granny and grandad sex

7. grannymar

8. sexy granny

9. toyboys

10. ‘count your garden by the flowers.

People think I have toy boys on the brain, well let me tell you nothing could be further from the truth.

What really worries me is all this sex stuff! I have never had sex with a granddad. I don’t want to know about sex with a granddad and as for Granny & Grandad’s sex life, well that is their secret!

Is it any wonder my hair turned grey?

I will go with No. 10 and count my garden by the flowers, alas there are not many flowers these days!

Mr ‘O’ owned the local newsagents on the avenue where I grew up. The actual shop was very small; in fact eight customers were about all it would hold at any one time. Mr ‘O’ was super efficient and nobody had to wait very long to be served. In the evenings and at weekends he was joined by Mrs ‘O’. She helped to look after the customers. When they retired about five years ago the other shopkeepers and most of the older, by which I mean long time, residents threw a street party in honour of his long and faithful service.

The shop was once half of a double fronted establishment at the end of a block of about 10 shops with a Cinema half way along the row. It had been divided before Mr ‘O’ bought it. The other half became Mr Mc’s grocery business. That’s a story for another time.

The window was about waist high with a narrow shelf on the inside. It was closed on the inside to the customers and could only be viewed from the outside. It was not a window to linger over as all the goods and personalities were inside the shop. Window dressings 50 years ago were few and simple. Crepe paper lined the shelf and on it were displayed Bars of Cadbury’s Milk Chocolate that in fact were blocks of wood, covered in the foil and wrappers. Boxes of Chocolates such as Mackintoshes Double Centres, Black Magic, Milk Tray or Fruit Jellies were on show. These boxes were only empty cartons; it was just as well because the shop was on the sunny side of the street.

There was a counter 3ft (91cms) high and about 7ft (214cms) long. It ran the length of the shop with a small gap to allow the staff to come out onto the
shop-floor or go into the miniscule store at the back. The first 18 inches from the window end was the children’s corner. You could stand here and look over the counter for an hour or longer with your large old penny burning a hole in the palm of your hand deciding what to spend it on.

Displayed on shelves along the wall behind the counter were what seemed like a wonderland of dentist’s delights from different toffee bars, gob stoppers lucky bags and various sweets including Fruit Salad, Blackjacks, Lollipops, Dolly Mixture, Bubblegum, Liquorice Allsorts, Midget Gems, Liquorice Sticks, Aniseed
Balls, Sugared Almonds and Wine Gums.

Next to this space stood a weighing scales. Along the front of the remainder of the counter were large jars of colourful sweets like a row of soldiers standing to attention. These raised the counter level and the newspapers of the day were placed on top of them. The old fashioned Cash register was tucked in behind, out of sight. Rows of cigarette packets were along the wall at a level out of sight of the children’s corner. Pipe tobacco, matches, pipe-cleaners, cigarette papers, lighter fuel all had their place. You could buy papers, magazines, comics, notepaper & envelopes, cards for all occasions, stamps, sheets of brown or gift paper and string. Large Picture boxes of Chocolates, usually with beautiful girls or cute animals on the front were placed high up on the walls. They sold well at Valentine’s & Mother’s day. The only trouble with them was that they were all box and very few chocolates.

Mr ’O’ also stocked milk in glass bottles, cream and eggs, ice-cream and ice pops – they were like a frozen drink on a stick, bright orange or deep red in colour. Fresh bread was delivered daily and he also stocked lemonade, Coke and Pepsi were not in our vocabulary never mind Mr ‘O’s shop.

At the far end of the counter was a mobile oil heater. It was the only heat in the building. The front door was open from morning to night so when the shop was quiet Mr ‘O’ was to be found working away near the heat source. On the shelves above it were an assortment of items not usual for a ‘paper’ shop. He had plasters, cards of sewing needles, sheets of pins, combs, razor blades, sachets of shampoo, fuses and batteries, sometimes you would see him disappear into the store and return with an item of his own to oblige a customer.

I remember once as a child going up with my saved pocket money to buy something for my parent’s anniversary and when I told him I wanted to buy a present he gently asked how much I wanted to spend. I told him how much I had and I know that what I came home with was well worth more than the cash I gave him. He even wrapped it for me and gave me a card to go with it.

On another occasion years later a friend and neighbour was having a party for her 18^th birthday. It was to be rather special and for the first time her parents had allowed her to have wine. When it came time to open the bottles they discovered they had no bottle opener to do so. Up they went to Mr ‘O’ and for once it was something he did not stock. Not to be outdone he left his wife to look after the shop and drove home to get his own corkscrew which he brought to the house of the party and opened the first couple of bottles to make sure they knew how to do it, before leaving the opener with them overnight.

Mr ‘O’ remembered everyone’s name, knew where they lived and who lived next door to them. As we grew up and moved on he got to know the names of the new additions to our families and always asked how we were doing and sent good wishes. We in turn always paid a visit when we went back to visit our parents. The younger generation loved to go to see Mr ‘O’ and buy sweets they usually came away with a sweet in their mouth that he had slipped to them.

I know he managed to have a half hour away from the shop to see me walk down the aisle 30 years ago and he was also at the graveside for both funerals of my parents.

We are constantly told how modern times are better. Modern technology means we can actually buy items without uttering a word or seeing a smile. Nowadays in shops when asking about certain items we are told “If it is not on the shelf, then we do not have it”. The Mr ‘O’s’ of this world are fast disappearing and the world should mourn their passing.