Grannymar

Today seems to have slipped by without noticing.  I spent quite some time talking on the phone, Skype and MSN with family. From the extreme 43C in Melbourne to the icy and snow covered roads in the North East of England.

Alice, who I wrote about last Sunday in The end of an ERA, still awaits cremation.  It is now due to take place on Tuesday next.  The extreme weather will not alone prevent Elly, George and I from attending; but some of Alice’s sons in the south are stranded also.

Those members of the family who managed to gather last night have come up with a very thoughtful idea.

Once the bad weather has abated and temperatures thawed, the family plan to hold a Memorial Service of thanksgiving for Alice’s Life.  It will be followed by a meal and party of celebration.  Now that idea I like.  It will be great for Elly to strenghten the bonds with her dad’s family.  I hear they have some wonderful old photos to show us.  I can’t wait.

My first introduction to the family was on a Sunday afternoon in early December.  I was sitting at the table pen in hand, with notepaper, cards, envelopes and stamps all at the ready.  I heard the clink of ice in a glass and before I knew it Jack was placing a G&T in front of me.    “How many cards will you need”?  I inquired as I thanked him for the drink.  The cards were spread neatly showing the various images associated with Christmas.

Selecting a card he said “You could send this one to Aunt Nell & Alice.”

“Hold it right there!”  I said.  “Do they know who I am?”

“I suppose I had better tell them that I got married” he said lifting a spare pen and the notepaper.

“Again!”  I said, adding “And the rest of it.”  As I touched the gentle curve of my tummy.

Aunt Nell was Jack’s aunt.  She was like a surrogate mother to him, looking after him for many months from birth, when her sister was very ill.  Aunt Nell had at that time a three year old daughter called Alice.  Alice bonded well with her new cousin.  She was joined a few years later by a new sister,  The three of them were always found together.  If Jack was not at home, he was to be found in Aunt Nell’s house playing with his cousins.

Alice was charged with keeping an eye on her cousin walking to and from school and again some years later when he began to attend dances.  It was Aunt Nell who quizzed Alice about the young ladies that Jack danced with.  Their paths branched when Jack went away to war in 1940.  Alice married and had a family, continuing to live in the village where she was born in Co Durham, England.

By the time I learned about them Aunt Nell and Alice were both widowed and living in the same house.  Having allowed time for the Christmas post to be delivered and the news it contained to sink in, I suggested one evening that we phone and speak to them.  From then on we kept in regular touch.  They eagerly awaited the news of the safe arrival of our precious bundle.  They were kept up to date of our progress and eventually we made a visit to stay with them when Elly was just over a year old.

Aunt Nell Elly & GM with Alice on the right

Regular visits followed and we were always made to feel very much at home.  Aunt Nell predeceased Jack by a year, and her other daughter died eight years ago.  Last night word reached us that Alice had died.  Although frail Alice attended a party yesterday afternoon and enjoyed the singing and the afternoon tea.  While being prepared for bed she calmly and quietly died.

Alice was like a grandmother to Elly and the last link to her Dads family.

Alice R.I.P.

Since I am off-line due to technical difficulties, :roll:  do you know if a change of shock absorber comes into that class

Even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one; so I have decided to direct you back to an old post.

I had visitors recently and we were talking about dances and style.  I had forgotten all about this post so many of you may not have come across it before, if you did read it first time round I hope you will enjoy it again.

Style

When I was young I had a good head of hair. I know because people always admired it. My father called it ‘my crowning glory’. It was thick, lustrous and auburn in colour. There were more natural hi-lights in it than in a New England autumn landscape. The hair colour had skipped a generation; my parents and siblings ranged from dark mousy to almost black. Mind you when the boys had an eye to fashion and grew sideburns or a beard, the hair below mid ear level appeared as Ginger! My colour came from my paternal grandmother and my maternal grandfather.

A good haircut once every five or six weeks made the job of grooming very easy. I managed it well over the years. Because of the weight I never had it longer than shoulder length. As I grew older I changed the style to a shorter look. It suited my face.

In my young working life before we had showers, I washed my hair every second day, usually in the evening and once towelled dry I put in rollers to control my curly mop. It was often still damp when I went to bed with the rollers still in place. Pride feels no pain! In those days despite the torture I managed to sleep. I wonder if I tried the rollers now, would I sleep any better. Sure it might distract me from my other aches and pains.

The rollers remind me of a family wedding. One of my brothers was getting married to a friend of mine down the country. We, the groom’s family completely booked the local hotel. We arrived the evening before the big day. I was sharing a room with my Aunt Mo. Like at most weddings, we were reunited with relations that we had not seen since the last wedding or funeral, you know how it goes.

Now when our gang get together the craic is mighty. The boys were on pints or shorts. I at that time drank Vodka. The groom had asked his best friend to be best man, but the friend was not due to leave Dublin until the morning of the wedding. Youngest brother, a groomsman, was lined up to step in if the best man was delayed for any reason. As the evening went on the stories flowed like the drink. It was a typical Irish wedding.

My Aunt had settled herself beside me and she was enjoying the fun no end. I was keeping an eye on youngest brother. If he was needed in the morning to take on the role of best man, a clear head was important. He was on the Vodka. The rounds were coming fast and furious at this stage. I began a game of chess with the glasses. As I finished a drink I set the empty glass in the centre of the table and pulled a full one closer to me. I also played a ‘sneaky’ when everyone was talking. I pulled one of my brother’s glasses my direction as well.

At one stage there were about 4 or 5 glasses of Vodka in front of me. My aunt was getting worried about me and asked where I got all the drink. “Say nothing and watch!” I whispered. Not content, she asked again. I pleaded with her to say no more. It took her some time to realise what I was at. I sank a fair amount of booze that night and it was a long evening. Being residents in the hotel the bar stayed open as long as we wanted it to. My Uncles were telling stories to beat the band and nobody wanted to break up the party.

Finally bedtime was reached and my aunt and I went to our room. She slept and so did I. When she awoke, she looked across the room to find that I was sitting up in bed, bright as a button, putting in my rollers for the hour before we were due to go down to breakfast.

“How can you do that.” she asked.

“Do what?” I said.

“Put those rollers in your hair while your head is pounding.” she said in a whisper.

“My head is not pounding.” I announced cheerfully.

“But you had all that drink last night, WHY? She questioned.

“Remember the best man was not travelling until today and little brother is on standby to step up to the plate if needed.”

“I remember.” she nodded.

“Well it was important that he should have a clear head in case he is needed” I said.

“But what about you?” she asked all concerned.

“I am not part of the wedding party and it would not matter anyway if I had a sore head. Nobody except you saw what I did last night. It was better than causing a fuss.”

My head was fine, I enjoyed a full Irish breakfast and then we prepared for the day ahead.

The best man arrived, the wedding went to plan and I was complimented on my beautiful hair all day.

The autumn glory has almost gone now and my tresses are turning to winter snow. With age I have a new problem. When I waken these days I have somehow adopted a Mohican hairstyle. Why?  I wonder. You get to see right to the scalp with the surrounding hair spread like sun rays all around it.  Brushing doesn’t fix it, I have to wash my hair before it will sit properly.

Does anyone know if our heads get heavier on the pillow as we age? Does it only happen to women?

Yesterday I had an invitation to afternoon tea.  My hostess was a tall elegant young lady that I have known since the day and hour she was born. Well not exactly the day and hour but near enough and I am not talking about Elly.  Jen was an early visitor to meet her new cousin Elly and the bond has grown with the years.

Jen introducted little Miss Elly to the wonders of Dublin without her parents.  They had regular visits to the cinema and to McDonalds long before Uncle Ronald discovered Belfast!  The adventure ended with the journey home on the upper level of a double decker bus back to Nana’s house.

There was one occasion when arrangements were being made over the telephone, the newspaper cinema listings checked and there seemed only one film that Jen wished to sit through again ( she was a saint in disguise returning to watch films just to suit her cousin!).  So on this occasion the one film had a question mark over it.  Mammy would have to give permission so Jen asked to speak to me.

The film was the Commitments Would I allow my under-age daughter go to see this film?  Jen had seen it before and had no objection to going again.  It contained strong language… very strong language, but nothing worse than you would hear on a Dublin bus!  I gave my consent.  We finished our conversation and I went to tell Elly.

Two minutes later the phone rang again.  It was Jen’s dad.  No, he was not objecting to my decision but he would enjoy seeing the film again and wondered if I would like to go along with them.  He was not sure whether Jack would like the film or understand the very strong Dublin accents, but I said I would ask him.

The cinema was quite close to Nana’s so my brother said he would collect us.  There were six in the party by the time we set off, my brother, his wife, the two young ladies and Jack and I.  I sat beside Jack in order to explain or translate for him the local lingo.  He was the first to laugh and the tears ran down his face for most of the film.  He had no trouble understanding any of it.

So after a couple of hours f-ducking and blinding I thought I had never left Dublin

We returned to the car and all piled in for the journey home to Nana’s house.  I had to do something, so I said:

F-ducking Elly, before your f-ducking uncle P puts the f-ducking key in the f-ducking ignition to f-ducking drive the f-ducking car out of the f-ducking car park to f-ducking drive us back to your f-ducking Nana’s, I just want to f-ducking say that I f-ducking never f-ducking want to f-ducking hear f-ducking you f-ducking using this f-ducking language ever f-ducking again!

Darragh had a very sweet post yesterday about elopement.

I once left home.

I didn’t elope.

I accidently split my little brother’s head open with a garden hoe.

While mammy took him to Temple Street Children’s Hospital, in Dublin; I packed my bag and went next door and asked our neighbour if I could live in her house! She has now moved on to the next life and I am sure she is still laughing!

That same little brother got fed up with living at home, and who could blame him? He announced one day that he was running away, when asked where he would go; he said “I’m going to get the 72 Bus!”

Very ambitious family we were…. The 72 bus only went to Oxmantown Road.

He did eventually move away. He made sure the hoe could not reach him.

Little brother now lives in Melbourne, Australia!

Today I should be many miles away from home.

This is where I should be:

Four Seasons Hotel Boston, MA

It sounds wonderful

Overlooking the famed Public Garden and Beacon Hill, and within easy reach of every notable business, entertainment and cultural attraction, Four Seasons is characterised by elegant simplicity and old-world Boston charm.

Unfortunately I had to decline an invitation to attend a family wedding there today.

So to Alexis & James I hope the sun shines on you today and always. I wish you a long and happy life together.

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 June 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