Tag Archives: family

The Big Green Gummi Bear’s Longest Night Out – a tale of a family outing

Posted on June 23, 2014 | 2 comments

Saturday was the longest day of the year and we marked the occasion by actually going out as a family….Please don’t all faint! (If memory serves me correctly the last time we ventured out as a family was to celebrate Boy Child’s birthday last December)

The special occasion that triggered this rare family outing was a summer BBQ at the local boat club where the Big Green Gummi Bear spends most of his time. A slight twist to the tale came earlier in the week when Girl Child asked if she could bring along a friend – her current “Special Friend”. Having caught us in a weak moment both the Big Green Gummi Bear and I said yes.

Cue several hours of preening behind closed bedroom doors before Girl Child emerged looking……well looking like a beautiful young lady instead of her usual rock chick self. When he saw her, a wave of panic washed across the Big Green Gummi Bear’s face.

“Special Friend” duly arrived and politely endured the torture and torment of being introduced to the Big Green Gummi Bear before we all set off to the BBQ. I’ve never seen two teenagers look so awkward, cramped into the back seat of the car, with Boy Child wedged in as chaperone.

A local band had been hired to provide the evening’s musical entertainment and, when we all trooped into the club’s lounge, they were just finishing up their sound check. With drinks in hand, we joined a long table with some friends and sat back to enjoy the evening’s entertainment.

No disrespect to the three musicians but they weren’t exactly aiming for the teenage audience and after a few minutes Girl Child asked if she could go for a walk. Her father said yes but then added, jokingly, that she had to go alone. Special Friend sat frozen in his seat as she trotted off out the door! After a gentle nudge of approval from me, he bolted out after her.

Now the main entertainment for the evening began- Big Green Gummi Bear baiting.

Within five minutes of the two teenagers escaping, he was fretting about where his baby Girl Child had gone. Within fifteen minutes he was twitching and glancing up at the door every few seconds. His friends jumped on the opportunity to make him squirm with suggestions as to what the two teenagers may or may not be up to. When someone dared to suggest that they may be down in the boat sheds enjoying an intimate moment, he almost had heart failure!

In the background the band played on.

We were being “treated” to a set of Rod Stewart and Eagles classic tracks that prompted an impromptu pop quiz among the adults and Boy Child as we tried to guess which song was being attempted. At one point the backing tape programme on the guitarist’s iPad got out of sync and we had a warped Eagles medley playing until he reset it. For me, the highlight of their first half was when they played The Kinks “Sunny Afternoon.” After an epic fail to hit the first high note in the song, the singer just left out all the lyrics that ended on any high notes beyond his range. All that was missing was a few substitute “la la la’s” instead. Priceless!

Food was duly declared ready; the band stopped for a welcome break and the “weans” wandered back in. The Big Green Gummi Bear let out a long sigh of relief.

The legendary Scottish midgies put paid to any ideas of socialising around the BBQ as the various guests grabbed plates of food and darted back indoors before being eaten alive by these pesky beasties.

Before the band had even played a note of the second half of their set Girl Child asked if they could go for another walk. I said yes and they promptly disappeared again. Their timing was impeccable – the Big Green Gummi Bear was at the bar and never saw them leave. Around the table we decided not to tell him until he noticed for himself. Beer in hand, he returned and joined in the mutual appreciation of Neil Diamond (I still have Sweet Caroline stuck in my head) and Monkees numbers. This whole affair was beginning to have the air of couple-less wedding reception.

After about half an hour he realised that Girl Child was AWOL again. Cue panic and a flurry of hand gestures down the length of the table towards me to text or phone or send Boy Child to search for her. His fatherly concern was hysterical, especially when unprompted one of his friends casually remarked that he’d seen them heading round to the secluded garden at the rear of the clubhouse. (They were in fact sitting chatting on a bench slightly further along the road in full view of the clubhouse)

The witching hour finally arrived and it was time for me to escort the teenage contingent home. Eleven o’clock at night and it was still light- love June evenings! Right on time Girl Child and Special Friend returned. The Big Green Gummi Bear sank back into the seat with exhausted relief.

For the Big Green Gummi Bear it had been the longest day, fretting about his daughter’s whereabouts; for Girl Child and Special Friend (and Boy Child who got trapped with the adults) it had been the longest dull day trapped at an “old person’s” party. For me….well I found the whole thing hilarious!

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The Ultimate Playlist – what should or shouldn’t be on it?

Posted on June 16, 2014 | 1 comment

I love it when, out of the blue, you end up involved in one of those conversations that leaves you with tears of laughter running down your cheeks. These usually happen at the most inopportune moments and that’s exactly what happened mid-week at work. Having giggled my way through it, I now can’t remember exactly what innocent comment started it but a colleague and I ended up discussing the music we would like played at our funerals.

Both of us were singing from the same hymn sheet, so to speak, and agreed that funerals shouldn’t be a mourning of the person’s passing but instead be a celebration of their life and reflective of their personality.

My mum secretly wants a New Orleans jazz style funeral. As this was mentioned in conversation, I got my first fit of the giggles as I was struck by an image of Boy Child playing his trumpet at the head of the school jazz band leading the funeral procession through the local streets towards the crematorium playing “When The Saints Come Marching In”. (I later shared this vision with my mum who fortunately saw the humour in it.)

Anyone who knows me will completely understand that the 23rd Psalm and Highland Cathedral aren’t going to feature when my time comes!

I asked my colleague, who is fifteen years my senior, what he wanted played. “Anything by Guns N Roses,” came his instant reply. He quickly added that he wants to be cremated but that his wife has already vetoed “Smoke on the Water” for that part of the service. I lost it! – cue laughter and tears. I promptly suggested “Burn” as an alternative- cue more giggling from both of us! (sorry, work colleagues) Apparently “Another One Bites the Dust” is also off the playlist. His Good Lady Wife is however a huge ACDC fan so he may have a glimmer of hope of playing “Highway To Hell” …. I doubt it though.

I came home from work still smiling at the conversation and asked The Big Green Gummi Bear what he wanted played. “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go,” came his reply. I should be grateful it wasn’t the Goombay Dance Band!

It got me thinking about my own choices and, I’ll be honest, I’m struggling. There’s so much good music to choose from. It would be easy to go down a rather reflective rock route and select “Wonderful Life” or “In Loving Memory” by Alter Bridge or “The Crow and the Butterfly” by Shinedown. While it could be fun to play “Stairway to Heaven” it would be giving the mourners false hope and sending them on a wild goose chase. Chris Rea’s “Road To Hell” takes them in a more likely direction!

Perhaps “One Last Thrill,” by Slash should be played? Or Avenged Sevenfold’s “Requiem”? As I wish to be buried rather than cremated when the time comes, Iron Maiden’s “Fear of the Dark” may also fit the bill. Regardless, the celebration should include Garth Brooks “Friends In Low Places” and culminate in “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life.”

Now that I’ve got you thinking, hopefully with a smile on your face, what songs would you choose?

 

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A Post-It note saves the day

Posted on May 21, 2014 | 2 comments

Ever get the feeling that you can’t get out of your own road? Sound familiar? Well that’s me this week BIG time.

Usually I am a pretty well organised person both at the “salt mine” and at home. However, over the last few days, I can’t seem to get everything done that needs doing when I come home from work- including writing this blog entry! It’s been on the mental To Do list since Sunday morning and as I write it’s 7.35 on Wednesday night.

I’ve not been doing nothing. I can’t do nothing. I have accomplished a fair amount writing wise over the last few days that I am extremely proud of.( That story may fill a future blog but, to briefly fill you in, a few weeks ago I got involved in writing music reviews for a friend’s website. To date I’ve completed five for her – two of these in the last week.) Seeing my work online for all to see is giving me a buzz; seeing musicians that I admire subsequently “like” what I’ve said about their work has blown me away.

It’s blown me right off course! Hence the current state of disorganised chaos that is freaking me out.

Realising this had to stop immediately I made a list on a Post-It note before I left the “salt mine” tonight. These tasks must be put to bed before I’m allowed to snuggle under the duvet tonight!

OK – so a quick rundown of the last two and a half hours-

5:00pm    –   left work to drive home via my parents’ house to collect Boy Child.

6:00 pm   –   arrive home, having been a good mummy and stopped at the foot of   the hill to pick up Girl Child to give her a lift the rest of the way home. That hilll’s a killer! Rounded up the various furry members of the household who were loitering in the driveway and fed them.

6:30pm    –    Pizza’s in the oven for the kids’ dinner; the laundry has been rounded  up and has made it as far as the floor in front of the washing machine ; the towels that were in the drier have been returned to the bathroom; mail for the day has been opened. Two tasks have to be urgently      added to my magic Post-It list – new CD to iPod and complete cat’s               insurance form.

7:00 pm   –   I  have attempted the phone call that I needed to make but no one’s home. Left a message so can tick it off the list. While I’m eating dinner    I’m adding the new cd to my iTunes so that I can sync my precious                      iPod, I’m filling in the insurance form and pondering for the hundredth             time “what can I write in this blog entry?”.

Unplanned and irresistible distraction alert – it’s sunny outside and still warm enough to sit outdoors. I love the sun!

7:30pm    –     iPod updated, dinner eaten, washing under way in the machine,   Insurance form completed, road tax for the car sorted out for the next          twelve months.

Sun is now screaming on me!

7.35pm  –     I surrendered and am now sitting in the sun writing, this blog        listening to the new cd on my iPod and enjoying a sneaky mid-week                    Chardonnay.

The Post- it note is now all ticked off. Mission accomplished!

Here’s hoping normal organised chaos levels resume before I run out of Post –It notes

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A day out with the Big Green Gummi Bear, Dragons and a Bearded Lady

Posted on May 12, 2014 | Leave a comment

It’s an all too rare occurrence but the Big Green Gummi Bear and I went out for the day last Saturday. We’re really not very good at this “going out together thing” -you’d think after over twenty five years together we’d have got the hang of it!

With Boy Child and Girl Child left at home with pizzas to cook for their dinner and a cat nominated as the person in charge, we headed off to Glasgow to see Cirque du Soleil at the SSE Hydro. After some debate about where to park the car, we finally chose the science centre car park (my suggestion so I got to pay the parking costs). It was a beautiful spring afternoon and, as we walked across the footbridge over the River Clyde, I stole a moment or two to take a few photos. (I could hear the Big Green Gummi Bear growling under his breath). Note to self – it’s not a good idea to wear metal tipped stiletto heels when trotting across a steel bridge! I’m sure my “dainty” footsteps could be heard for miles!

The Hydro is a fabulous venue but, despite my enthusing at great length about it to the Big Green Gummi Bear for the last six months, he didn’t get to experience the sheer size of it due to the subtle lighting ( or lack of light) when we entered the “bowl” to take our seats for the show.

Large Chinese lanterns hung down from the roof creating a tranquil atmosphere. It felt like sitting inside a temple from the Ming Dynasty. Cirque do Soleil’s Dralion was a fantastically colourful show. The programme explained the theme as being a “cultural fusion where Nature and Man become one in a quest for harmony. With the Dragon (Dralion) symbolising the 3000 year old tradition of Chinese acrobatic arts. In this magical world the four elements governing the natural order take on human form to defy the laws of gravity.” And defy the laws of gravity they did!

We were treated to a two hour extravaganza of acrobats, aerial pas de deux, single handed balancing, aerial hoop, juggling and the incredible crossed wheel. There’s so much going on out on the stage that at times it’s hard to know where to look. I could have watched the trampolinists all day – they really did defy gravity! The Dralions, Chinese Dragons each made up of two acrobats, were incredible but I’d have liked to have seen more of them. Like every “circus” show Cirque du Soleil has its clowns. I’m not meaning silly wigs, red noses and big shoe type clowns but more traditional clowning more akin to “Mr Bean” in some respects. The four clowns’ impeccable comic timing and forays into the audience added just the right element of humour.

We emerged from our Chinese temple back out into the early evening sunshine. Cue more loud “trotting” back across the bridge. On the way home we stopped off for a delicious meal and a very welcome glass of wine at a small restaurant overlooking Dumbarton Rock, a volcanic basalt plug on the banks of the River Clyde, and Dumbarton Castle.

All in all it was perfect day out – so how do you round off such a magical day? (Put that naughty thought away!)

We came home to Boy Child and Girl Child, opened a bottle of wine, sprawled out on the couch and watched the Eurovision Song Contest. Cheesy trashy pop music for over two hours – what more can I say! Quite appropriate though, that after our day at the circus, it should be won by the Bearded Lady.

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Irreconcilable Socks and the Solidarity of Shirts

Posted on May 5, 2014 | Leave a comment

There’s one thing that never ceases to amaze me on a weekly basis and that’s the amount of clothes we go through in this house. I’m sure someone sneaks in here and deposits their laundry in my basket. It used to be a weekly ironing pile I faced on a Sunday – now it’s a veritable mountain with an accompanying mountain range of bedcovers, towels, socks and knickers!

How can four people generate so much laundry in one week?

I’m convinced that once it’s placed in the laundry basket in the cupboard in the utility room that it breeds in the dark.

Shirts! They are like magnets and attract other shirts – usually tangling themselves in each other’s sleeves as an act of solidarity in the washing machine. Between Monday and Friday the three shirt-wearing inhabitants manage to dirty fifteen of them! Grrrr

Socks are another nuisance. Pesky wee things! I’m sure they are playing games with me. At the end of last week I had three “odd” dark socks. What the Hell I thought and threw them back into the laundry basket in the hope that they would be magically reconciled with their partners. It worked! However three other pairs got “divorced” and I still have three “odd” socks!

You’d think, logically, that Girl Child would be the worst offender for generating excessive amounts of washing. True, she does that teenage girl thing – wears it once or sometimes even just tries it on and decides not to wear it – and throws it in the general direction of the washing basket.

Wrong!

The Big Green Gummi Bear is the culprit. His love of water sports and daily trips to the gym are to blame. At the weekend he can work his way through three or four sets of t-shirts, socks and underwear per day. If left unattended for more than twenty four hours this sweaty wet pile exacts its revenge and begins to emit the most foul odour of Eau d’River Clyde. (The washing that is not the Big Green Gummi Bear…well maybe occasionally)

Ironing also has its own magic powers. My rule of thumb is that “if it doesn’t get ironed on Sunday then it has to wait until next week”. I’m a bit OCD about getting it all done on a Sunday (watching MotoGP or Formula 1 does help to get through it quicker). I’ll sort it into two piles- shirts and stuff that requires a cooler iron. By the time I’ve set up the ironing board and the iron, there’s invariably a cat, Frankenstein, sound asleep in the middle of it – on top of something black of course.

I surrender! I’m away to investigate the pros and cons of joining a nudist colony.

Only joking- I’m actually away to hang out the washing!

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“We could have mother/daughter day?”…..

Posted on April 15, 2014 | 2 comments

School holidays, unless you’re a teacher, fill most parents with dread. Initially, a few years back, it was childcare dilemmas causing this sinking feeling but, as the munchkins have evolved into teenagers, it’s now a feeling of  “how many mum’s taxi runs is this going to involve?” and “how many hormone fuelled battles will rage this time?”

Tempting as it was to remain at work throughout this entire Easter break, I have in fact, bitten the bullet and taken this week off.

“We could have mother/daughter day,” suggested Girl Child, batting her long eyelashes at me. “We could go to Glasgow shopping.”

That suggestion alone was almost enough to send me running back to the sanctuary of the office!

However, I took a deep breath, and agreed to take her shopping. The pound note signs lit up in her bright blue kohl lined eyes!

So today was THE day.

Girl Child is not naturally a morning person but, armed with my secret weapon (cool blue Gatorade) we headed off to the station to catch the 9.25 train. A dose of blue juice and peace to listen to her iPod (well I was listening to mine) ensured she got off the train in good humour.

Now to improve mine – first stop coffee. Hot, black and strong!

I had surrendered all hope in my own mind that I was going to get to look in a single shop that I wanted to visit.

Caffeine levels restored to their normal high, we set off in search of the first shop on her list– a gothic/occult clothing store. I had to laugh as we walked down Queen Street, remembering a previous traumatic mother/daughter shopping day when I had asked to visit the same shop we were now charging towards. At that time the Girl Child has declared emphatically that she would disown me if I ever even suggested going into such a shop. Ah, how times change! She can’t get there quick enough….

An hour later we had browsed through five gothic style clothing shops and not bought a thing.

With the “patient mummy” smile painted on, I suggested we grab some lunch while she debated what she actually wanted to spend her money on. The idea of lunch met with teenage approval.

Someone was smiling on us as we walked into the recently opened Hard Rock Café and didn’t have to queue for a table. Extra kudos to me for the choice of eatery! We were left wondering though as we left a while later after devouring our burgers (and in my case washing it down with a medicinal beer) – when did “Dancing Queen” by ABBA qualify as hard rock? Or any other kind of rock for that matter!

A decision on the clothing had been made, probably hurried along thanks to the pop harmonies of ABBA, and we returned to two of the shops to purchase her selected items. All moods and hormone rages were still under control- they even remained under control when the one shop didn’t have her chosen top in her size. (Thank God, as on closer inspection, it did not meet with the “sensible mother” in me – too many sweary words on it!)

New clothes purchased and Girl Child declared bankrupt, we headed back to the station. Oh dear, the route just happened to take us passed the record shop…how did that happen?

Well it would’ve been rude not to go in…..

With a bag now containing three CDs (two for Girl Child and one for me) and a new addition for my vinyl collection, we meandered back to the station to catch the train home.

The sun shone down on us all day. Not one cross word was spoken. We both agreed it had been a lovely mother/daughter day out- but then again that may have been the second dose of Gatorade talking!

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An Evening of Southern Hospitality Never To Be Forgotten

Posted on March 1, 2014 | Leave a comment

An evening of “Southern Hospitality”- it would’ve been rude to refuse.

“Rock Mum” was out to play this week at Glasgow’s legendary Barrowlands in the company of one other “responsible” adult ( I use the term loosely)and four rock music mad teenagers (one of whom is currently slightly broken after a recent skiing incident).

Our evening’s “Southern Hospitality” was provided by Kentucky based hard rock band, Black Stone Cherry. I’d seen them play a few years ago as the support act for Nickelback so, when I saw this short speciality tour advertised, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

As we queued outside in the freezing cold and in full view of the band’s tour bus, the excitement began to build. Climbing the stairs up to the “ballroom” only heightened the anticipation. I have to say it is the first time I’ve watched a rock band play a venue with glitter balls on the ceiling, a reminder of the venue’s past history as one of Scotland’s leading dance halls of the 1950’s and 1960’s.

The set list had been chosen by the fans via the band’s Facebook page and was interspersed with several short Q&A sessions. Broad Glasgow accents versus Kentucky Southern drawl proved to be a challenge as the band confessed they weren’t quite tuned in to “Scottish” as they put it but the questions proved to be entertaining and the band demonstrated what a decent bunch of guys they are. One girl asked if they would autograph a t-shirt she had worn to their last Scottish show when she had been pregnant with her first child. The shirt was duly tossed on stage, autographed then personally delivered back to its owner by lead singer, Chris Robertson, who came off stage and into the crowd. A custom made bass drum skin was autographed and raffled off during the evening. The fans did learn one “personal” fact about guitarist, Ben Wells – the name of the shampoo he uses on his long blonde flowing locks. Street cred severely dented there, young man!

It almost goes without saying that the music was brilliant – all the fans’ favourites were played plus two new songs from their forthcoming album, Magic Mountain. From the “dance floor” it was obvious that the band were having a much fun as their adoring fans. Chris Robertson’s face as the whole crowd sang “Peace Is Free” to him was a vision of pride and emotion.

After a full two hour set Black Stone Cherry bade us all a warm goodnight and left the stage to a thunderous cheer. The house lights went up and the PA system began to play Garth Brooks “Friends In Low Places”. Apt.

The highlight of the evening was yet to come.

As we headed towards the exit, I spotted the band’s drummer, John Fred Young, standing at the side talking to someone. With that huge mop of curls you couldn’t mistake him! Distinctly out of character for a normally shy me, I went over to speak to him. I thanked him for a fantastic show and was rewarded with a very sweaty hug and a kiss. Happy Rock Mum!

The kids had followed me over somewhat shyly. I stood back and watched them chat politely with the tired musician, get their tickets autographed, when someone eventually tracked down a pen, and their photos taken.

Sharing in their excitement and enthusiasm for having met one of the band and listening to their “star struck” conversation, as we headed wearily home, made me a very proud “Rock Mum” to all four of them.

Definitely a night where we all enjoyed Black Stone Cherry’s personal Southern Hospitality. Thank you, gentlemen.

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That elusive hour – have you seen it?

Posted on February 17, 2014 | 1 comment

How hard is it to take an hour or two out of the day just for yourself?

I’m not necessarily meaning an hour to do nothing. In this case it was time to write the next blog and to begin work on the third part of The Imp (which is still in the pen.)

This week it has been nigh on impossible and I even had two days holiday from work which in theory should have made it easier.

Someone is definitely stealing hours out of my day when I’m not in the office.

Let’s start at last weekend- it was more or less a creative write off. A sleepover for seven hormonal screaming teenage girls put paid to the majority of it. You couldn’t hear yourself think in here at times! The remainder of Sunday and Monday disappeared under a huge mountain of laundry – the washing machine had died the previous Wednesday and its replacement arrived to a warm welcome on Saturday afternoon. Cue several days of washing and the house smelling like “the steamie” as I tried to get it all dried and ironed.

For a short while Monday night was looking hopeful but, no, it was interrupted by having to chauffeur Girl Child home from a friend’s house at the opposite side of town.

Tuesday  had already been pre-planned and I spent a lovely few hours catching up with a friend over coffee and lunch. On the drive home (I only got lost once) the weather closed in and, by the time I reached home, there was a pleading message from Girl Child looking for a lift home. Cue another fourteen mile round trip to collect her.

I had just settled down thinking that finally I had found the elusive hour when Boy Child messaged me looking for a lift home from the station. Cue another five mile round trip in sleet and snow to rescue him.

Wednesday saw me back at work. Thursday was Girl Child’s birthday so that obviously took priority for the evening. It was worth it to see the look on her face when she received her gifts.

Valentine’s Day, Friday, dawned and, after a busy day at the salt mine, I headed home to cook dinner and to do more laundry- where does it all come from? After a “romantic family meal for four plus cat” the Big Green Gummi Bear and Boy Child retired to the living room to watch a DVD (Planet of the Apes in case you were wondering). Girl Child slipped back into her bat cave.

I’d finally found my elusive hour!

I poured glass of wine, fetched my notebook and pen and settled myself in the warmth of the kitchen with my iPod. Bliss for a whole fifteen minutes then the cat came and sat on my notebook, purring pleadingly for attention.

I surrendered.

If any of you ever find my elusive “hour to myself without interruption” can you please wrap it up carefully and mail it to me. It’s a very precious thing.

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The Domestication of the Human is Complete

Posted on January 20, 2014 | 1 comment

I like to think I’m quite a free-thinking independent human being so I am struggling a bit to work out how it has come about that I have been domesticated by the cat- or in my case four of them.

If any of you are cat owners- and I use the term loosely as I now firmly believe they own us- you will understand where this is headed.

It has been going on for some considerable time. Ten years ago we were a cat free household then the munchkins and I spent two weeks visiting relatives in a cat filled house in the USA. When we returned home Boy Child was so miserable about leaving the cats behind that we decided to adopt a rescue cat.  (Conspiracy theory here- the cats are all in cahoots!)

Enter Dixie into our lives. The flood gates may as well have opened! Long story cut short- Dixie was an old lady, hated boys, suffered ill health and was only ruling the roost for eight short months. In that brief space of time however we became the adoptive humans of a black fluffy, half Siamese, half Persian male kitten called Sioux. When Dixie passed away Sioux was lonely- enter Gandalf, another rescue cat (I could and probably will fill a whole blog at a later date on him alone) All too soon Sioux and Gandalf had us well trained as to when and what they wanted to eat, when they wanted in and when they wanted out and as to how much of the bed they intended to occupy each night.

A few years down the line the munchkins (obviously brain washed by their feline masters) convinced the Big Green Gummi Bear and I that we needed to adopt a third feline member of the household. Enter Pythagoras who had repeatedly featured in the local paper as the pet of the week in need of a good home. Cue a whole new set of household rules as the three male cats learned to live together and to live with us. It took a while – and the arrival of a fourth feline- before Gandalf and Pythagoras could tolerate being in the same room as each other.

Two years ago the fourth- and final (for now) – feline joined this motley crew. Frankenstein, yet another rescue kitty, came to stay. My domestication was almost complete. Poor Frankenstein, through no obvious fault of his own, had had four homes in two years. As soon as I saw his big blue eyes and heard that charismatic purr …well the rest is history.

Now we live by a strict set of felines dictates-

*Gandalf only enters and leaves via the front door.

Pythagoras prefer to come and go via the first floor windows, having climbed over the garage roof to get there.

Sioux and Frankenstein require cold meat prior to any human resident being served breakfast

In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the carpet at the door of the bedroom- Pythagoras wants out.

In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the chest of drawers- Sioux wants out.

In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the side of the bed- Gandalf wants out

If in the middle of the night a cat is clambering over your head purring incessantly- Frankenstein wants out.

If a cat- any cat- is sitting in front of the narrow cupboard in my kitchen- it wants fed.

If after dishing up a tasty meal it returns to the cupboard- it wants a different flavoured dinner.

If the cat was on the seat first don’t waste your time moving it- it will only return to sit on you.

If the cat’s in the bed first- sleep elsewhere!

 

The ancient Egyptians worshipped cats as Gods. Mine have never forgotten this fact.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Do you remember when…… fond memories

Posted on January 4, 2014 | 9 comments

Choosing where to start this journey has been pre-occupying my thoughts over the last few days. I’ve kept returning to the same starting point and repeatedly dismissed it as too personal but then again…..

People pass through our lives on a daily basis. Some slip by unnoticed while others leave a huge footprint in our hearts. One tiny little lady who left a huge indelible mark on me and on many others was my Wee Gran. I could ramble on for hours reminiscing about her but won’t ( I may share more tales at a later date – we’ll see)

One thing that always struck me was the amount of change and progress she had seen in the world she lived in. Born in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland in 1902 she saw two World Wars,  lived through the reigns of four kings and a queen, saw man land on the moon and saw technology that we take for granted evolve beyond belief. Simple things that we wouldn’t give a second thought to created memories that lived with her forever. I remember we asked her once  when did she see her first car. She thought for  a moment  or two before replying ” I don’t know what year it was but it was a Tuesday.”

“A Tuesday?” we echoed.

“Yes I was on my way to the prayer meeting.”

Do you remember the first car you saw?  I don’t.

There’s a myriad of similar tales. A lifetime of memories left behind by this little lady. And to those who had the good fortune to know her – who will ever forget the taste of her pancakes?

One of  the most heart breaking moments of my life was the day I walked into her house to visit as usual and she didn’t know who I was. Even now over nine years later  there are tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat  as I remember the scene. Old age had finally caught up and stolen away the Wee Gran I knew and love, leaving behind a frail,  scared, old lady. I only saw her another twice after that day (it was too hard- and selfishly I wanted to keep my wonderful memories of her intact). She passed away a few months later a month shy of her 103rd birthday.

The poem below was written a very long time ago. I don’t often write about those dear to me for fear of offending or embarrassing them. I feel though that this captures my memories of  this very special lady –

My Wee Gran

She sits in her big red armchair, hand touching her left ear

Eyes alert. Swift look at the clock-

It’s not lunchtime- yet.

Up since dawn she stifles a yawn

Ankles crossed- feet twitching slightly

Two clocks tick- only one is wound nightly.

The wireless is on- it’s McGregor again

A daily ritual in number nineteen

Memories flicker into conversation as a man tells of the death of a generation.

She dresses plain- no jewellry to be seen- only her slim wedding band.

She starts to talk using her hand.

Jumper and pinafore- uniform- regulation blue cardigan- well worn

A smile leaps to her lips- more memories into conversation

Two clocks still tick.

Now it’s lunchtime- the ritual is at an end.

Up she gets- wireless switched off- McGregor is finished for today.

It will be on again next day.

The big red armchair stands empty

Into the kitchen my wee gran’s away

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