I'M Still me…..

My mum and dad came to stay for a visit last week. They don’t come very often, and I like to make the most of it when they come. When they come to stay, I am reminded of how I would like my life to be. I remember how I used to enjoy cryptic crosswords and what it’s like to drink tea from a cup and a saucer. I need to jog my memory about what it was like when I was a lot younger and enjoyed word games and reading a book, not watching television.

When Mum and Dad came, they obviously wanted to reacquaint themselves with their great-grandchildren and we did that whilst catching up on family news. It was the next morning when I asked my dad if he could remind me how to do a cryptic crossword, because he’s the master at it, well, in our family anyway. I so much enjoyed that couple of hours with him and I’ve vowed to attempt the crossword every day, rather than waste time in front of the TV. I really enjoyed Mum as well, we  caught up on the gossip and generally put men to rights. It makes so much difference to me to have things done in a different way, a way that I don’t do to accommodate marriage and living with someone else. I don’t ever warm plates for meals because the person I live with doesn’t like it, but Mum always does that and it’s just second nature to her. It’s hot cross bun time, and in my existing life, my buns are served to me with a piece of kitchen roll, having been buttered and sandwiched back together. In my old life, they were split and buttered and served one half at a time. These things seem trivial, but they remind me of what it was like in my previous life. I remember when, as a girl, I enjoyed reading books, playing Scrabble and using a pack of cards to play Patience. Now I play it on my computer and it’s Solitaire. It’s really nice to talk to someone who knows the names of plants in the garden and identify birdsong, simply by the song.

As I said, I don’t seem Mum and Dad very often, and I really enjoy their company when they come, but I appreciate it’s a long way from Winchester and I shouldn’t expect them to always drive to me, so I have to make more of an effort to go and visit them.

Has life got a bit silly? I’m a feminist and I am in total admiration for the women who gave up their lives to make sure that we had the vote. However, I’m beginning to wish I didn’t have one, because if I fall for the diatribe that prospective MPs want to give me in order to gain my vote, I expect them to behave when they get to Westminster. The past few weeks have shown me that MPs are no better than children in the playground. After the result of the referendum, it would have been a good idea if we had taken a contingency of MPs, remainers and Brexiteers, across all parties, to Europe in order to negotiate a good deal for Britain. If we had taken on Michel Barnier and Donald Tusk with a balanced and comprehensive solution to leaving Europe, we might possibly have had a result by now. Instead, we are left with egg on our face, most of Europe laughing at us, and we’ve shown ourselves to be the lesser country that we’ve become. It’s a little like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted, when Theresa May now wants to hear the opinions of all parties, after she has lost the vote. Also, Jeremy Corbyn doesn’t want to join in her gang, because she won’t say definitely no to no deal. I would accept that they are sparring partners, and that Tories and Labour will always be antagonistic to each other, but these are difficult times, and surely it would be obvious to anyone with any common sense at all to talk and communicate for the best deal for this country. I know I’m not the only one who thinks this; almost everyone I talk to in my daily life thinks that the behaviour in the House of Commons at the moment is shameful to our democracy. We would be better having a military coup.

What I would like to know is, will I still be able to buy continental quilts after we leave? Is there anyone in Europe who can tell me?

Can you tell the difference between an adult and a grown-up? I’ve reached the grand old age of 60 and I am a grown-up, whilst Husband-in-a-Hurry is older than me and he’s an adult.  When my 3 year old granddaughter found that she could do creative things with the exciting contents of ‘Nonna’s Activity Drawer’ the adult would have covered the worktop in newspaper and used an old shirt to protect clothing from glue and glitter! The grown-up (Me) didn’t do that.

The pleasure on Meadow’s face when she discovered I had six, I said SIX, unopened tubes of glitter AND school glue was exquisite.  We took roles: I was the ‘applier and spreader-outer’ of glue, mostly on to the paper and Meadow spilled the glitter, mostly on to the glue.

I could feel the presence of ‘the adult’, his internal mechanism disapproving and trying very hard to contain the enthusiasm of ‘grown-up’ and granddaughter.  Meadow and I started with the navy glitter and made a picture for her mummy, it was more just a splodge of glue but she liked it.

“We’re making a picture for Daddy now” but naturally we need a different colour glitter. “What colour would Daddy like?” I ask.

“Daddy would like purple!” Meadow replies.  The ‘Adult’ says: “Why don’t you use up the colour you’ve opened?”

Meadow replies: “It’s all gone!”

Now it’s on the floor, it’s in my chair, it’s on our clothing.  Daddy’s purple picture is finished and now we need to make a picture for Koby and Lola, the dogs, of course. They want pink glitter!

As those of you know, who spend any time with 3 year old’s, their fine motor skills are limited.  The glitter comes out of the tube in a fountain and the spatula comes with the glue!

At this point, Husband-in-a-Hurry, is losing control of his grandfatherly demeanour; he wants to get cross and clear up the mess but he can’t because he’s granddad. It softens his heart a little when Meadow wants to make him a picture, but she wants to open another colour.

If this wasn’t rewarding enough; the delight in creating something for those she loves, the fun we had in spite of the dark glares from the ‘Adult’, it was the way she sat on my lap and put her arms tight around my neck, that hug will always be with me.

When I was a young girl, Christmas was in December. We celebrated Halloween in October, and just a week later, we had bonfire night. Fireworks seem to be on sale most of the year, now and Christmas starts in September. I’m the worst offender, as soon as there is the first glimmer of tinsel, I am stockpiling Quality Street, so that I’m prepared for the big day. This is utterly ridiculous. Everyone gets into a complete panic early and it spoils the festive feeling. We all join in the retail fallacy of needing to spend money as early as possible.

I’ve been doing this so long and I don’t know how to stop. There must be a way. It seems as if everyone gets caught up in the need to wish the next celebration or occasion to hurry along, and then on New Year’s Eve, we all say, “I don’t know where the year has gone.” Do we ever ‘smell the coffee’ anymore? Instead of anticipating the frantic spending spree which leaves us exhausted and unable to enjoy January, with credit card bills collecting, we should just leave Christmas back where it belongs, and enjoy the advent calendar in December.

In America, they celebrate Thanksgiving the second to last Thursday in November, something to do with pilgrims and colonisation and turkeys. I’ve never really understood it, but I guess that’s America. Then they exported to us Black Friday, which is the day after, as if they haven’t spent enough money on Thanksgiving. Amazon say that it starts on the 16^th, and husband in a hurry says it starts on the 23^rd. It’s a time when online retailers can persuade us to buy the things they haven’t been able to sell all year, at a discounted price. As if that’s not enough, they give us Cyber Monday, after Black Friday to try and persuade us to buy more ‘gifts’ for people we don’t especially like. I can’t understand or even enjoy Christmas with this much pressure.

And as for the food, well, where do I begin? I’ll make lists of all the provisions I need to get me through Christmas, but the shops are only closed for two days, and there’s always a Costcutter. I will book Christmas online delivery slots as soon as they open. I end up throwing away food, which I can’t afford to do, and which offends my morals, because there will be so many people who won’t have any food on Christmas day. My grandma used to tell me that another mince pie meant another happy month, well I’ve probably eaten enough to be happy for the rest of my life.

Why do we buy Christmas crackers, can anyone tell me? They’re overpriced, they don’t really make much noise and there’s a very bad joke inside. We collect together the mini pack of playing cards, the magnify glass, which no one can see through because it’s so tiny, the jumping toy, that generally lasts about five seconds, and there’s a lot of wasted paper debris, which goes in the landfill, because it’s non-recyclable.

This morning, my daughter told me not to waste my money on cards, because she doesn’t like them. She opens them, reads them, throws away the envelope, and on the fourth of January, disposes of them, because my grandson has a birthday on the fifth.

I really wish I could break out of this cycle. It bothers me a lot, and it seems to get worse and more intense every year. Who’s the turkey now?