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National Birthday Week

I do love birthdays, especially mine:-)

The spoiling of boot has been comprehensive. Thank you larians for just about everything! And thanks to all awesome friends for birthday wishes, messages, and just being in my life.You are amazing:-)

Presents included basil cocktails in the National Gallery, a trip to Turkey, where larians and I will attempt a diving course in time for our excursion to Oz in the new year, a helicopter trip over London with champagne, to be taken after the Olympics, a wander round Kew gardens, new clothes, pretty jewellry, pretty steampunk jewellry, dinner at Champur Champur and Miss Felicity Beedles' magnum opus, 'The World of Poo.'

Plus, of course, a swift visit to Mum in Granada.



This was wonderful. I called up at her open window, and she stuck her head out looking so happy, then she ran down the stairs, opened the door and gave me the biggest squeeze ever. She was joyful company all the time I was there, the only problem being that she wouldn't let me pay for anything. She was in good nick too, lithe and graceful and bouncy (she puts it all down to royal jelly) and together, we had a great time eating and drinking in Granada. Currently she has a strange hair style, based on sticking her hair up on end with hairspray. The effect is startling. Two teenettes in the street giggled at her until she gazed at them with regal indifference and said 'What are you two laughing at? You're both fat!' At which point they slunk off. It was the only time she used the power of Old Lady Temerity. I was to meet this again throughout the holiday, in more fearsome form.


One particular elder relative greeted me at the door with, 'Eh, your hair, I don't like it. And I see you are eating well...' after an enquiry after her general health, she greated me with this cordial, condensed for brief perusal;

'I am not well. I hate it here, I miss England. The family, pah! They are all... I don't like them. What do you think of your mother eh? Doesn't she look a fright with her hair like that? And she still takes that carry case everywhere. People look at her in the street with that carry case. And let me tell you, you will make no money on that flat when she dies, you will have to redo all the electrics and plumbing, she has broken everything, no, I don't want to go to the chalet, I don't like the family [Insert baby name] Well I don't like that child, and the mother? She is always trying to palm him off on her mother. And her mother? She needs to remember there are other people in this family apart from her husband and children. And him? Ugh! He leans his bread on his chest to cut it. Who wants to eat bread full of chest hairs? And he is a man you know, and men are always touching their private parts. Who lets him prepare food after that? And..' As I ducked out to go to the toilet, 'Just how much water are you using in there? It sounds like 6 litres! What are you doing exactly?'

I came out and explained I was washing my hands. She rejoined with, 'Well you do not have to use so much water!' and started telling me the correct way to wash my netherparts, using as little water as possible.

Once I regained my composure, I replied with all due respects to her as my host, I was a woman of 50 and knew how to wash myself, I would use as much water as I saw fit, and further badgering would only induce me to creep into the house while she was asleep and turn all the taps on. She was silenced momentarily.



The family with whom she was so displeased, was in fine fettle. One of my cousins has a year old son, nicknamed Attila by the family because he is unstoppable. Placed on my lap for a moment, I found that he is not a fat boy, but by god, he is heavy; I suspect an adamantium skeleton. They tried to give him sleeping drops; it didn't work. I suggested the parents should take them cos they clearly hadn't slept in weeks. We talked and ate, and my cousin managed a few hours of ordinary human interaction, while her mother, now part of the grandma gaffatape that holds Spain together, prevented Attila from attacking the tomato plants.

It was good to see them all, and very good to come home to the man who put this all together. I have had my lesson in how not to be a terrifying old lady in time to come. And for now?

Being 50 is absolutely fabulous!:-)

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Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
november_girl
Jul. 16th, 2012 01:35 pm (UTC)
I think we should all be terrifying old ladies - they're ace.

Glad you had a lovely birthday, and your presents sound amazing.
xx
smokingboot
Jul. 16th, 2012 04:12 pm (UTC)
Thank you, the presents are somewhat incredible this year - I am grateful and very chuffed:-)

And yes, there is a grandeur to terrifying old ladies, even when they make you feel like you've been run over by a tractor!
caddyman
Jul. 16th, 2012 10:03 pm (UTC)
Hurrah for Formidable Matrons, rather than Terrifying Old Women!
smokingboot
Jul. 17th, 2012 07:59 am (UTC)
Hurrah!
To Formidable Matrons!
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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