Friday, 12 October 2007


I've been given an Award by the lovely Elsie Button.
It's for making her smile! Thank you so much Ms Button!
I first thought I was seeing things last night when I read her Blog, too much Chardonnay, I thought. I did a double take and then went all emotional, somebody likes my stuff!
I'm totally used to people laughing at me. I've never managed to chair a PTFA meeting or attend a Friends meeting without somebody bursting into laughter. I come home and quietly say to Darling Husband "they keep laughing at me".
"That's because you're ridiculous" he says lovingly.

When I write my blog, I often laugh at what I've written, I know how I would say it all, but wonder if it can be funny for anyone else.

My award has made me smile a great deal and helped me through my good deed today. I should like to dedicate it to the gentleman I found this morning on the roadside, his beautiful Volvo had been squashed by a huge trailer full of potatoes (probably destined for Asda or Tesco).
He was in tears, furious and suffering from shock. It was so upsetting to see it in a man I have known for many years, a man so formidable and regimented, to see him lose his composure was horrid. In the rush for other vehicles to get by someone had driven and knocked his shoulder, another had ran over his foot. There was relief when I offered to stay with him, all offenders left rapidly and I stayed with him for an hour, just talking and being there when his anger overcame him again. I called the Police and waited for the recovery vehicle, making sure the gentleman in question would be able to escort his battered car to the garage. A Hire car awaited him, the insurance company notified, he was shaken but physically OK.
He gave me a hug and peck on the cheek before I left, I think I helped him, he gave me a very warm and sincere smile as I drove away.
I came home, feeling how unfair old age is and how awful to have to go home to an empty house. It must be difficult.
I told Darling husband all about it.
As usual he put it all into perspective:
"It's a good job you stopped and talked him into calming down, I would have just told the old bugger to stop being so bloody stupid"
He's mean, but it did sound funny and did make me smile, again.

Wednesday, 10 October 2007


My Grandparents were complete opposites in socio-economic terms.
When my parents married in 1963, their wedding cost £4,000.
My Mum left a very run down,condemned council flat on the morning of her wedding and moved into the wing of my Dad's family home.
As a child it was quite novel to have such different grandparents. At one house we'd fight with our cousins for the battered biscuit tin, not wanting to be left with the crumbs. Tea was had in mugs and we'd always have chips for dinner.
At the other house we'd be served tea, while sitting very quietly in the lounge. Tea was poured from the tea pot into bone china cups and saucers, one never had biscuits with tea, let alone dream of dunking.
Both my grandmothers like being called Nanny, both extremely lovely, always knew what we liked and didn't and always had great gardens. One garden was very formal, perfectly manicured, the flowers were used for arrangements in Church and at WI. The other was packed with strawberries, cucumbers and runner beans (brilliant for hiding in).
I only had one Grandfather, he drove a Bentley and smoked fat cigars, he was a terrific Grandfather. In his office, he would let us twirl round and round in his huge leather chair and kept one of the drawers of his desk full of sweets and chocolate for when we called in to see him.
My Dad told us a story about his parents having a huge row on the doorstep of their enormous house when he was a little boy. My grandmother was stood in the doorway shouting at my grandfather and he was shouting back. My Dad, the youngest and smallest was hiding behind his mother with his two sisters. The row got more heated, the children joined in, one of them had the bright idea to throw the shoes in the hall at their father. My Dad said for years he had no idea what he'd done, but the row stopped fairly soon after that.
My Dad had been throwing shoes as hard as he could over his mothers' head at his father. There were plenty of shoes, with five of them in the house and he kept at it until the shouting stopped. Apparently he was too small to throw very high and each shoe hit my grandmother on the back of her head.
My father always hated his sisters, there would be wild fury in his eyes when ever their names were mentioned. When fairly small they dressed him in a pink tutu and hung him upside down out the upstairs window.
I think these things truly had an effect on his mercurial character later in life, in fact his sister said only a few weeks ago, that their mother had often commented that it might have been better to have dropped him after all...