Grannymar

Chrisb from Ms Cellania had time on her hands at the weekend and succeeded in completing two memes. She saw her way to tagging me for the second one ‘7 things about me’. Alas several other folk got there before her. I did complete it the first time round and sidled away from then on.

The other one she did was to Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. Now that seemed easy, all you need is a good memory! Now I wonder where I put my memory. O.K. Elly, I hear you! It’s not in the airing cupboard, pantry or the cutlery drawer!

The Rules:
Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given here (family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like).
Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better.
Don’t forget to read the archived post and leave comments.

I had a little drink…. and I had a little think…..I looked back through the pages through my old posts and tried to keep to the rules. Now with ‘Are You Cheerful?’ I could cheat and cover family, friend and Your Love with one post, but that is not really fair. I have to do this properly.

1. Family

This one is easy The Letter Box Clattered… and I have my friend Anne to thank for keeping a letter I sent to her nearly 30 years ago. It tells the story of the very beginning of my very special family.

2. Friend

This time I have chosen a Podcast Do you need a Hat, it tells the story of decorating a hat for a friend and it leads to a story from the past.

3. Yourself

The answers to Have you ever a quiz that Elly tagged me for, gives you some idea about me.

4. Your Love

Do you like Hallowe’en is the easiest to decide upon but it comes again as a Podcast it tells the story of how I met me sweetheart.

5. Anything you like

Who needs a Notebook is another Podcast telling a story from the heart of our kitchen about our kitchen table.

Right, there it is. Now how do I choose 5 people to pick this up?

Well the Irish Blog Awards are waiting for nominations so here is an opportunity for 5 Bloggers to remind us of their worth. Five names have a chance here, but I will pick only three to nominate. Come on sell yourself!

Coffee Helps

Conortje

Gingerpixel

K8 the Gr8

Primal Sneeze

As the year draws slowly to its close, we all regardless of age seem to look back over the events of the past year, remembering lost loved ones, re-live our celebrations, rejoicing over achievements, tiptoe past disasters and move on to plan for the year ahead.

At first glance sewing seemed to overtake if not punctuate my year at every available space. In fact it was actually a year of great variety. In March I attended the Irish Blog Awards in Dublin, where I had the opportunity to meet with other Bloggers with amazing talent. A week later I turned sixty and officially become a senior citizen.

Over the months many hours were spent talking to Elly simultaneously on the phone and internet working through suggestions, ideas and plans for the wedding.

Moving forward to May I was approached on Skype and asked to help a young man in Italy to improve his English. I almost said no, but now we talk regularly and I think at this stage he can be counted as a friend.

The Wedding in June brought family and friends from across the globe to help celebrate and witness Elly & George’s Special day.

The weather was kind and Elly looked happy and glowing in her outfit. She said that it was very comfortable to wear and gave her the freedom she wanted.

The train of her outfit was detachable and was removed for dancing.

The end of May was rather scary with an emergency trip to hospital but thankfully I have recovered, and learned yet again to listen to my body! By the end of September I had sufficient energy to attend Podcamp in Kilkenny. It gave me the opportunity to learn and share, while renewing old friendships and making new ones.

November saw the passing of Cherry the mother of my new Son-in-Law George. I know that with Elly by his side, and the love of his father and siblings to share the great loss, George will feel the smile of sunshine on his face once more and hear and enjoy the birds singing.

Back in July I quietly marked the 30^th anniversary of the day I married. Sadly, and not by choice, I have been alone for a third of that time. When Jack was alive our world was wonderful and I am thankful for warm loving memories.

The mention of marriage reminds me of a radio interview I smiled at over the holiday, an 80-year-old lady was the focus, because she had just remarried — for the fourth time.

The male interviewer asked her questions about her life, about what it felt like to be marrying again at 80, and then about her new husband’s occupation.

He’s a funeral director,’ she answered.

Interesting, the young man thought. He then asked her if she wouldn’t mind telling him a little about her first three husbands and what they did for a living.

She paused for a few moments, needing time to reflect on all those years.

After a short time, a smile came to her face and she answered proudly, explaining that she’d first married a banker when she was in her early 20’s, then a circus ringmaster when in her 40’s, later on a preacher when in her 60’s, and now in her 80’s, a funeral director.

The interviewer looked at her, quite astonished, and asked why she had married four men with such diverse careers.

She smiled and explained, ‘I married one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four to go.’

It is with a heavy heart I share with you the news of the death of Cherry, dearly loved mother of George my Son-in Law.

I have only known Cherry for the past three years and was drawn to her open friendly nature. Elly was introduced shortly after she met George and was immediately accepted and loved by Cherry and indeed all the family.

Cherry had a lovely home and was at her happiest when, like a mother hen she had all the family round her table. She was privileged to see her family grow, increase and multiply and I was honoured to witness and be part of a large happy family gathering round her table last Christmas.

May Cherry rest easily now her suffering is over and my prayer for Sam her husband, George and all the family is to find acceptance in the warm happy memories and love of a very special wife and mother.

God’s Masterpiece Is Mother

God took the fragrance of a flower…
The majesty of a tree…
The gentleness of morning dew…
The calm of a quiet sea…
The beauty of the twilight hour…
The soul of a starry night…
The laughter of a rippling brook…
The grace of a bird in flight…
Then God fashioned from these things
A creation like no other,
And when his masterpiece was through
He called it simply - Mother.

- Herbert Farnham

Cheerfulness removes the rust from the mind, lubricates our inward machinery, and enables us to do our work with fewer creaks and groans. If people were universally cheerful, there wouldn’t be half the quarrelling or a tenth part of the wickedness there is.
Cheerfulness, too, promotes health and morality.
Cheerful people live longest here on earth, afterward in our hearts.
- Author Unknown

If I were to name two people who answer this description, one alive and another who has moved on to the world of eternal cheerfulness they would have to be:

Not two but three people have marked my life and outlook forever.

My Maternal Granny lived in Dublin, a bus journey away from us. She was a regular visitor to our home and immediately made for the kitchen or wherever she heard the voices. The mood became much brighter with her arrival and she always had colourful tales to tell from her journey on the bus, a visit to Town or of relations who had called to see her. Granny saw the lighter side in any situation and regularly saved us from a scolding. She used laughter to help make painful experiences a whole lot more tolerable.

We often stayed with her during school holidays. She loved going to the Cinema and regularly took us a matinee showing at the Green Cinema. It has long gone now, replaced by the St Stephen’s Green Shopping Centre. The first film I remember from those days was Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

Granny’s house seemed so much quieter than ours, but then there were only two people in it in those days. The youngest of her sons was unmarried at that time and he was either at work or out with his friends. She would send me up to open his bedroom window when he had gone to work and when I was half way up the stairs she would call out to me “Don’t be looking at those Dirty Books!” This was always followed by a hearty chuckle. Copies of ‘Men Only’ were scattered in bundles all over his room. Naturally I had to take a look at what I was not supposed to see. I am sure by today’s standards they would be considered very tame. Do they still print them?

I remember one day at the lunch table the conversation turned to ‘Wooden Legs’! We must have talked about my Paternal Grandfather because he had a wooden leg! He died when my father was eleven so I never knew him or saw his wooden leg. I was young enough at that time to be a little wary of having a ‘wooden leg’ at close quarters. Granny not to be outdone told me that she had one, it was in the coal shed and after lunch she would let me see it! Sticking close to her skirts we headed out to the coal shed. It was dark inside and there was no light. She ventured into the shadows and lifted something rather heavy from along the back wall. I was ready to scarper as she walked towards me with the leg. “Now do you believe?” she asked and she placed a beautifully carved table leg in front of me! Oh Yes! She laughed heartily for hours afterwards.

Jack the love of my life. We are back to wooden legs again! He was a Burma Veteran. I have talked about this part of his life in earlier Podcasts called Our John Chapter 1 & Chapter 2 in March this year. He had a badly injured leg and walked with a slight limp. In fact he mastered it so well it was more like a skip! He always referred to it as his ‘wooden leg’. He had such a positive attitude to life, his bottle was always half full. No matter what dreadful thing I did he would say “Ah sure it is not as bad as a bad marriage!” He found fun and laughter in all we did. Our 21 years together passed like a short weekend.

Helen, a friend I met on holiday in Spain the month before Elly started nursery school. Helen and her husband were holidaying away from their children for the very first time. Helen’s strong maternal instinct drew her to Elly. We discovered over the few days that we shared many interests. We became instant friends I was really drawn to Helen by her infectious laughter. It was impossible to be in her company for longer than five minutes without vibrating with laughter.

Helen’s life was crossed by many health complications over the years, but she never let this fact get her down. She is a true friend and when we talk or meet up the conversation flows without the gap of the weeks or months since we last spoke. There is one thing sure when I finish a phone call to Helen I feel like I have had a couple of weeks in the sunshine.

Remember: You don’t stop laughing because you grow old; you grow old because you stop laughing.

Now it is your turn…

Something I found in the Elly’s old Bookcase

While reading a post from Betty the other day called Sorry, wrong number, it reminded me of some calls I answered over the years. It gave me the idea to share some of them with you. Here I go stealing ideas again!

Back in the days when ‘The Telephone’ was a fixture like an immoveable feast, a time mentioned in a Podcast I made way back last February, I mentioned the fact that the phone was in the Hallway of our house near the foot of the stairs. No matter what hour it was or where you were when it started to ring, there was a charge of the Light Brigade to answer it. My mother was often heard to say “You sound like Guinness’s Horses!”

I actually remember the heavy rhythmic sound of the large Dray Horses from the Guinness’s Brewery as they pulled the heavy trailers over cobbled streets back to the Brewery at night. It was a comforting sound, heard as I lay in a great big bed at my (Dublin) Granny’s house on a summer’s night. Still daylight outside, the windows were open for air and the closed curtains with their large Cabbage Roses, billowed in the soft breeze.

Now back to my subject and the sample of calls to our house. We were taught to answer the phone with the number and not a name.

11.40p.m. Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Me: ****** (Number)
Caller: The Gardai are outside. Click.

11.41p.m. Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Me: ****** (Number)
Caller: Close the Bar, CLOSE THE BAR! Click.

11.42p.m. Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Me: ****** (Number)
Caller: Close the Bar the Gardai are outside. Click

We got calls for a Pub that was at least two miles away on a regular basis half an hour after the official closing time at night. Our phones numbers had the same digits but in a different order. There was no point in complaining, as the callers never stayed on the line long enough to find out their mistake.

Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Me: ****** (Number)
Caller: Is that **+**+?
Me: No, you have a wrong number.
Caller: Well if it is a wrong number, why did you answer it? Click.

Then there was the night…

Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Brother No.2: ****** (Number).
Caller: Blah-de-blah-de-blah. I only heard one side of this conversation!

Brother No.2: I’m fine, how are you?
Caller: Blah-de-blah-de-blah.

Brother No 2: When did that happen?
Caller: Blah-de-blah-de-blah.

Brother No.2: Were you very late?
Caller: Blah-de-blah-de-blah.

Brother No.2: How did it go?
Caller: Blah-de-blah-de-blah.

Brother No.2: You miss me. Really!
Caller: Blah-de-blah-de-blah.

Brother No.2: How much?
Caller: Blah-de-blah-de-blah.

Brother No.2: Mmmm! I think I better get my Brother before you tell me any more secrets. Nice talking to you!
Caller: I will NEVER phone that house again!

That call actually went on for 45 minutes without the young lady realising she was talking to the wrong brother. She and brother No.1 celebrated 40 years of marriage last week. Well done both of you and I wish you bliss and trouble free phone calls for the next forty years!

Nowadays when I get an incoming call for a number that is not my own, it might go something like this:

Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Me: Hello
Caller: Would Joe be there?
Me: I think you have the wrong number.
Caller: Oh! I am very sorry for disturbing you. Click.

Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Me: Hello
Caller: Would Joe be there?
Me: Well I hope not, or my husband might not be well pleased! (I never tell them my husband died)

Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Me: Hello
Caller: Can I speak to Joe?
Me: Hold on while I check, I set the receiver down and walk deliberately and noisily away……

Minutes later

Me: Are you still there?
Caller: Yes, is Joe there?
Me: I checked under the bed and there is no sign of him!
Caller: Click.

Ring-ring, ring-ring…

Me: Hello
Caller: Would Frank be there?
Me: Is he good-looking?
Caller: Why?
Me: Well if he is good-looking and a toy-boy he can stay!

I bet you are glad you don’t ring my number!

Another memory from my childhood.

Earlier this year I had a “woulda-shoulda-coulda” phase, as K8 would say. I must explain.

All my life when people greeted me, they said ‘Gosh, you are so like your mother!’ And I was! At her funeral 11 years ago, a man I had not met for twenty five years walked up to me in the graveyard and said “You have to be Grannymar! You are so like your mother”. Alas, at that point I had not erased the image of a very tiny, fragile and wasted ill old lady from my in-most eye. I had a hard job to smile and not show the shudder that ran through me.

A similar thing happened at Elly’s wedding in June. A cousin who lives in New Zealand that I last met in the late 60’s greeted me on her arrival with the same familiar phrase. My brothers always called me ‘Skinny’ or ‘Drip-dry’ when I was young. I may be long, lean and like a beanpole but now my hair is grey and my face and neck have more lines than the map of Ireland.

Mammy

In her young days my mother was a beauty with shoulder length dark hair. I inherited thick auburn tresses from both sides of the family a generation further back. None of my siblings had hair my colour, although if my brothers sported sideburns or a beard it grew a light ginger colour. My father always told me that my hair was my ‘Crowning Glory’. If that was so, then in my eyes, pale skin with large dirty looking dark freckles did not do my hair justice.

Now back to the face like a road map, and the “woulda-shoulda-coulda” question. With Elly’s wedding in sight I pondered and agonised about looking well for my Mother-of-the-Bride role. Since Elly is my one and only and cameras don’t lie, I needed to really think this one out.

Research was necessary so I scoured the ‘Net’, and read every written article I could lay my hands on. My eyes were closing with all this reading. Then I found a book that opened my eyes forever!

Mirror, Mirror (Confessions of a plastic-surgery addict)
by
Terry Prone.

Terry is someone who has experienced dozens of different kinds of plastic surgery at the hands of surgeons on both sides of the Atlantic and who tells the truth about each procedure the discomforts, results, costs and all. If you have ever contemplated going down this road I strongly recommend you find a copy of this book.

My final decision was made when I read the following story:

A 45 year old woman had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital
While on the operating table she had a near death experience.

Seeing God she asked “Is my time up?”

God said, “No, you have another 43 years, 2 months and 8 days to live.”

Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have face-lift, liposuction, breast implants and a tummy tuck. She even had someone come in and change her hair colour and brighten her teeth! Since she had so much more time to live, she figured she might as well make the most of it.

After her last operation, she was released from the hospital. While crossing the street on her way home, she was killed by an ambulance.

Arriving in front of God, she demanded, “I thought you said I had another 43 years! Why didn’t you pull me from out of the path of the ambulance?”

God replied: “I didn’t recognize you.”

My face is still like a road map, but Toy-boys remember that:
A Lady who has no lines
Is a Lady who never smiles!

My father worked in the Rag-trade. That for the uninitiated is Dublin slang for the clothing business. He had agencies for several Irish, English and Continental Fabrics manufacturers. It was a world of great colour. Fabrics of all kinds were to be seen in our house because that is where my dad had his office. I was always aware of the ‘New Colours’ a year ahead of them being available. Twice yearly when the new ranges were introduced, each sample had to be numbered and recorded in his ‘little black book’. It was way before Pc’s and laptops. My mother and I were always roped in to help with this work. At times it took three or four evenings to complete the task.

The samples were packed in suitcases that dad delivered to a customer, a couple of days later he collected the cases and hopefully an order. That night the cases were emptied and the samples were refolded and sorted before passing them on to the next customer.

His customers were many and varied, from top Irish Designers to more household names in the Clothing Business. When my father was out my mother or I manned the phone. I became very familiar with the names, voices and characters of designers and manufacturers. I seldom needed to ask them either their name or phone number. Occasionally my father brought me with him on his calls. I had the opportunity to meet many creative people in those years. They were pleased that I remembered them on the phone and made me very welcome.

On occasions they might want to show my father how a fabric looked when it was made up into a garment. Since I was a size 8UK/6US, the size used to make up samples, I was asked to try an outfit on and ‘walk up the floor’. I still remember trying on a brightly coloured trouser suit in a ‘Raj’ style. The trousers were lined and had the zip to the front like men’s slacks. I was more used to buying trousers with the zip at the side. I remarked on these things and was told in a lovely gentle way that a zip should never be inserted in a side seam because it would upset the balance and look of a ladies hip line. The lining was so that the fabric would not rub a lady’s tender legs. That was long before jeans became a regular fashion item.

From those early days I was particular about how clothes fitted and when I brought home a purchase, my father was the one to look it over and pass comments about it. Regularly I was told to ‘Put it on and walk up the floor’. He often teased me about how much they paid me to take an item off the shelf! Mostly he agreed that the clothes that I picked suited me.

I was always comfortable in trousers and have been known to turn out for work wearing them with a shirt and tie. Forty years ago dinner dances were all the go. The men wore ‘Black Tie’ and ladies wore long dresses. I was fond of sewing and made a new dress for each dance.

I remember one particular occasion in the months before I met Jack. The Company I worked for was having a large formal bash. I was undecided whether to go or not, when a colleague and I were asked if we would make up a party with some chaps on secondment from Scotland. A blind date, it would be a first for me, so why not. We made arrangements for all our party to gather and meet at a friend’s house. On the evening in question we girls arrived early to have a drink, a giggle, apply the paint and get dressed for the evening.

The invitations said ‘Black Tie’ and I arrived so dressed! Well I wore black trousers, with a white silk shirt and a bow tie. Over this I had a tailcoat that had belonged to my father. It fitted me well and suited me, even if I say so myself. I had a small weekend case with my dress in it. The girls were so surprised to see what I was wearing that they forgot about my case. I had them convinced that I was dressed and ready and each time the doorbell rang I went to open the door. My garb was the best ‘ice- breaker’ ever and a real talking point. When we were ready to leave I excused myself and quickly changed into my dress. It was just as well it was a crease free fabric!

The whole party were disappointed that I had changed into a dress and they told everyone at the function of my earlier outfit. I was almost sent off to change back into the tailcoat.

While reading Baino’s Banter today I smiled at all the items in her treasure trove. For years I collected small items that reminded me of people rather than places. I would never be considered a ‘Hoarder’. In fact Jack told me that my mother warned him before he married me ‘Not to stand in the one place for too long or I might throw him out!’

I returned from a Wedding in Cape Cod a few years ago on a cold November day. When I unlocked the front door I was met by a stream of paperwork, clothing and belongings stretching right through the house. The back door (Aluminium Double glazed) was lying open and the frame was damaged and hacked to bits. It was not something that could have been done quietly or with speed.

The thieves were selective and took only items that were of value including jewellery, several pieces that were antique, and for me priceless & un-replaceable. They all had a story attached to them and brought loved ones close to me when I touched or wore them. I have not replaced them and decided that the jewellery I was wearing would be my signature tune from that day on. After all we can only wear one item at a time. Why leave things around for someone else to steal.

It took a couple of months to sort things out with the insurance company, but much longer to get over the fact that someone had been through my clothes and personal items. I still have to stop myself walking from room to room when I come into the house on a dark winter’s day.

My enforced holiday in hospital recently has made me reflect and think about my life. I have decided to yet again sort out my belongings and clear out anything that is not needed. The loft area was done years ago and is now only custodian to the Christmas tree and decorations. There might be one box of ‘Elly’s early life’. One school book from each year and several projects she worked on, a school crest etc.

So what is this about emigrating? Let me explain. Some years ago a friend called while I was doing a big clear out. “What are you up to” she asked. I told her I was immigrating to Australia and therefore clearing out all the things I no longer needed. She almost believed me. Since then when I need to do a clear out, I tell myself that I am on the move.

So now Elly is married and beginning a new stage in her life. It is only right and normal that she should be allowed to do so. As I have said so often, I gave her life and not a life sentence, therefore I move back a few steps from her and allow her to get on with marking out her new role. My life is also beginning a new phase, with the realisation that once again I stand alone. There will be many new challenges ahead for me and I look forward to discovering what they are.

Meanwhile would anyone like this tuning fork…