I was a cock-up in the despatch dept. We decided long ago that I was sent to the wrong sister or the stork’s sat-nav was on the blink. My mother’s younger sister, Muriel, is my real mother. So I was delighted to go and visit for a week. I would love to get over there more often but time, money and distance prevent. I even look far more like her than I do my birth mother. Her and grandma of course.
She is an amazing woman. Having lived all over the world and returned to Scotland she is now so busy that I have to make appointments for our telephone chats. She is normally out chairing a meeting or running a group in the evening. She also drives the bus for the old folk to go to Quaker Meeting, all of whom are younger than her. She’s 85!
For me, it is my “other” home and like running back to Mummy. Odd trips out are arranged and in the evening, having eaten a mutually satisfactory small veggie meal, we settle down to knitting or crochet (squares for blankets for African orphans) and ignore the TV for the most part.
I also get to see most of my cousins. We take the French option and just call everyone cousin – no matter how far removed. I had three generations of them this time.
Having taken two days to remember to speak English and not French when I hit London, it is going to take me a few days to lose my Scottish accent. The moment the tyres hit the runway, it comes back and even on the phone I pick it up again. Badger can tell when I’ve been chatting to Muriel because I’ll call him a “big galoot” or pine for deep fried Mars bars.
We don’t DO much but just that is a wonderful change. Mu cancels all her meetings for the week I’m there so we just potter about together, always stopping for tea and cakes somewhere and I am permanently finding packets of tablet slipped in my pocket (Google it – it’s delicious, Scottish sweetie!)
My only mistake on this trip (there’s always one) was to forget my adapter for my hairdryer which is why my head looks painted on. So here you are – this is some of my family, what is left of them and oh boy do I wish I saw them more often. One day, perhaps….one day.
Unfortunately, when Mary took the group photo, the wee boy wouldn’t stand still long enough to be in it!