Yes it does. In spite of one or two annoying little habits they may have, my family are the best. You may think yours are better but that’s because you haven’t met mine. Last weekend we went to the coast to meet up with our son, his fiancee and their daughter, who were having a short break by the sea so that he could then spend his birthday present from us on a trip on a steam train on the North Yorks Moors Railway. He’s something of an enthusiast for railways – we don’t call them trainspotters in our house.
So we met them in Scarborough, right down on the seafront and Isla, the two year old, couldn’t wait to run down to the sea, first with Mummy and then with Grandad and Daddy. I assumed the role of official photographer, as my current spinal condition leaves me a bit rickety for running on the sand chasing two year olds who can outstrip me in moments. Needless to say, she fell in the water and Daddy had to run in after her, getting his shoes wet. Served him right, I thought, the daft lump should have taken them off as soon as he hit the sand. (They had spare clothes for Isla but not for Daddy. Ooops.)
We strolled along the sea front, trying not to buy ALL the grockle in the souvenir shops – just a few sticks of rock, a toy elephant, a hammer that makes squeaky noises, a map for the car and a plastic toilet which contains a type of putty that, when you squeeze it, makes farty noises. The epitome of good taste.
Exhausted by our spending spree, we called in for a fish and chip lunch in one of the seafront cafes, where Isla, to show us that it was hot, reached across and touched the teapot full of boiling tea and then had a jolly good cry. There were four adults at that table and not one of us saw it coming and then felt full of guilt because we “let it happen”. In fact, there wasn’t even a mark, she must have barely touched it, but we all felt that “bad parent” feeling for a while. (Isla had forgotten in seconds, I hasten to add.)
So we strolled further along the bay, trying to walk off all those calories (Frankly, a half marathon wouldn’t have had much effect, it was more lip service really. I mean, come on, fish, chips, mushy peas, bread and butter, apple crumble and custard, it’s a wonder we could move at all. ) and then walked up into the town for a coffee in Wetherspoons. Oh how I love Wetherspoons. Cheap and cheerful? Yes, and nothing wrong with that. In a country where pubs are closing daily, Wetherspoons takes old buildings and turns them into going concerns. Good for them.
Anyway, that was Sunday.
On Monday, our younger daughter, Rachel, was coming up from Wales for a flying visit, so her sister and I went to pick her up from the station at Meadowhall, a shopping mall known locally as Meadowhell. Not having anything in particular to buy, Alex and I went into a department store to try on hats in preparation for our son’s wedding later in the year. That was hilarious. Not very adult, I’m afraid, but great fun.
I then remembered that I had something in my handbag to take back to a shop. I’d bought it in Scarborough the day before on an impulse and really should have bought the more expensive one. Having carefully put both the item and the receipt in my bag before setting off, I proudly walked into the store and explained the situation. Even though I had bought it elsewhere, because it was a chainstpre, they were perfectly happy for me to return it and buy the next model up. At least, they were until I handed over the receipt for coffee in Wetherspoons the day before instead of the one from the shop, which I had almost certainly dropped in the litter bin before leaving the house. Dammit. And my daughter just laughed and laughed and laughed. Hmmm.
But do you know what, they let me do it anyway. Now that’s customer service.
And then I went to the Milly Johnson book launch with my youngest daughter and we had a whale of a time.
This week, for the first time, we babysat for our youngest grandchild, as her mum has started a part time job at the local school. Such a joy, although we were tip toeing around in case she missed her mum. She didn’t seem to, as we spent the time crawling on the floor playing with her toys. We then got her in the push chair and she was asleep before we got to the end of the road.
That’s the way to do it.
So now it’s Sunday and we’re off down to Bewdley for a couple of days deep in the English countryside. Just the two of us. So you see why family matters, they fill our lives with fun and annoyance, sometimes in equal measure, but they matter, don’t they?
And, of course, tomorrow is Diva Day and I can’t think of anyone to whom family matters more. I wonder what she’ll have for us…
And here it is…
So this week, go back into your stash and find a tile that you could spruce up or remix and give it a shiny fresh coat of Pigma Micron!
Have a great week!!
Well we were away for a few days but I had a little A5 folder with me with card and pens, so I rooted through it and found this…
It’s white pencil on brown paper and it’s probably the best Mooka I have ever done, so I stopped before I could spoil it.
Anyway, I decided to be brave and add ink, some shade and a bit of twinkle. I don’t think it’s ruined, although, as always, I could probably have done better if I had taken it a bit more slowly. Sorry about the quality of the photo, had to take it on the windowsill to get enough light and the sparkle still doesn’t really show.
So that’s it for now, see you next week, with any luck , so, until then, world, be good – ish.