by T. Jessop
Tuesday 11th December 2014
Joe spent yesterday trying to convince me that he had no recollection of Sunday’s outburst, even desperately trying the ‘Someone must have slipped me a Mickey. ‘At least when I’m horrible I’m upfront about it. Too be honest I can’t be asked to argue about it anymore; these days I look forward to a dull evening in.
Wednesday 12th December 2014
Hairdresser 5pm.
Is there a conspiracy against me? Julie called me this morning at half nine and says ‘Sorry, did I wake you up?’I aint that old, although I have noticed more often that I ache from top to toe, and what don’t ache don’t work,
Thursday 13th December 2014
Sam, Connor, Daisy Xmas play 3pm
Sam was Joseph, Daisy an angel, and Connor‒ a jellyfish? Nope, I didn’t get it. From the moment they got on the stage I beamed with pride, struggled not to cry as they waved, smiled as Daisy blew me a kiss, whilst looking about daring one person to laugh as they fluffed their lines. Raising kids is 90% hardship, misery and tears, but the 10% good far outweighs the bad.
Video and DVD players are a cool invention, yet are another form of technology that has deprived kids in some way: where’s the excitement when the kids put a film on? How different for us, when we’d hear the Warner Brothers tune? How early would we get up So’s not to miss the Banana Splits, how gutted we’d feel if we found a film on telly halfway through, knowing that it wouldn’t be repeated for years if ever. It’s not that we necessarily appreciated stuff more, it was more that we didn’t take for granted it would be there.
Saturday 15th December 2014
Arthur’s 46th birthday.
Leg wax 2pm.
How come you never notice a potato has gone rotten until your finger slips into the underside, releasing a squelch and a stench that could gag a Billy goat?
Tuesday 18th December 2014
George’s 28th birthday.
Jackie said that George had received all his gifts from us in time for his birthday. She’s missing him terribly, but I guess that’s the downside of being a soldier’s wife. Other than power cuts, all else is good on camp. Ya see, power cuts: there’s another rarity now that was common in our childhood. Shame, really, cos I liked them: our lives didn’t come to a standstill, we made shadows with our hands, searching for the candles that parents always kept for such occasions but could never remember where the safe place was, lol. But mostly a lack of power to a house caused people to talk. I think the people in charge of the national grid now should just throw the switch sometimes for the hell of it, and restore some much-needed communication.
Thursday 20th December 2014
Sam asked me what game computer did I have when I was little; looked dumbstruck when I said they hadn’t been invented. He laughed and asked, ‘How did you live, Nan?’Cheers, buddy. To be honest, I’m glad we didn’t. I also think as parents we need to monitor and restrict the time kids spend playing them: far too many will sit playing a game when they should be outside playing. It’s far too easy for youngsters to withdraw into their own company.
I can’t argue that mobile phones and PCs open the doors for many housebound people: they can shop, buy, discover all sorts online; allows them to communicate via email or chat live on the social networks, keeping in touch with family and friends. Then of course there’s the bad side, which is it attracts perverts and its brother. Better learn to decipher code as kids all write in it, that’s if you even get to read it before they shut the window down. Youngsters are happy to write incoherent shit for hours but don’t know how to hold a conversation face to face for five minutes. And technology is seen as progress.
Friday 21st December 2014
The technology debate rages on and climaxes with toys: what can we buy a child that requires imagination? Where’s all the simple Lego, the Meccano, the simple doll’s house? How many games did we play that involved one tennis ball? Off-Ground Touch, He Ball, Sting Ball, Bulldog, Run Outs, Weasel, Tin Tan Tonny, Curbsie, Hopscotch, Scoobydoo, Polo, Kiss Chase, Knock Down Ginger…the list is endless. Call ‘Vaynites’ when someone needed a time out: honourable.Yeah, we sometimes fell out with each other; within a day it was forgotten, not like now where everything’s a grudge that ends in violence. It’s up to the parents to guide the kids; mine have all spent summers playing ball games, chalking, water-bombing (every kid learns quickly that the expensive enormous water gun is no match for the lightweight washing-up liquid bottle), grass fights, puddle-hopping… all good clean fun. I’m as guilty as the rest for spending hundreds of pounds on the latest must-haves, yet it’s the other stuff they remember most.
We’re all off to Scotland tomorrow to spend Christmas at the farm.
Saturday 22nd December 2014
All of us have arrived here in Scotland. The live turkey keeps following Connor; he is not happy.
Elizabeth bought his and hers chamois leather-lined wellies, $442 dollars worth, and dressed them both head to toe in Chanel.
Joe’s sporting a goatee looks like he’s swallowed a squirrel. Julie, beside herself, stated she’d give anything to rescue said squirrel right now. Freak. Gonna have to sleep with one eye open with her under the same roof as Joe.
Us females are heading into the city tonight. Bit of luck, Julie will exhaust herself on the local cuisine.
Sunday 23rd December 2014
JJ’s nightclub: excellent venue, excellent music and the cheesiest pick-up lines I’ve ever heard. ‘D’ya have a library card cuz ad like ta check ye out’, ‘Is there a mirror in ya drawers? Cuz I can see masel in em. lol.
Jaki and Jeni, having been led to believe their parents were divorcing (Pauls ruse to ensure they’d come home for Christmas), had decided to save some news of their own until they got here. Both arrived at the farm with a husband each (twin bros) and both the girls are pregnant with twins. Chloe shrieked and burst into tears, Joe had to restrain Paul, lol. All ended well, the girls are moving back to the farm for good to raise the babies, four grandchildren in one hit. Cool. Turning point for Paul was the news that his new sons-in-law are absolutely minted.
Breakthrough on Connor’s phobia of fowl: the turkey hasn’t left his side and now Connor calls him Terrance aka Butterball, so it seems shickens is OK now.
Tuesday 25th December 2014
There is always a downside to the cure of a phobia; Paul and Joe had to go searching the city to buy a shop-sold turkey late afternoon yesterday, as Chloe didn’t have the heart to kill Terrance.
The evening brought the locals for a drink. Derek asked me what it would take to get a kiss under the mistletoe. He didn’t look impressed when I said ‘Nothing short of anaesthetic, mate. ‘I made sure all mistletoe was gone before drinking any ‘in jar with no name’.
Two hours into the fun and two sheets to the wind, Chloe was washing the turkey, trips, shoots the bird across the floor with skills that only a curling champion could have matched.
Dutifully we took turns to take the farm feline outside for a wee as poor alley cat don’t go out no more alone, after he was attacked by a pair of robins. He had to have five stitches in his head and is now frightened of his own shadow and won’t go out without an escort. Nice to see that everything in our lives is mental.
This morning began with the exciting frenzied opening of presents: Joe, not the kids, lol. Chloe heaved every time she opened the oven door. Virgil, having spotted alley cat skulking off with the discarded raw turkey neck and giblets, reaches behind the sofa and takes it from the pilfering coward. Connor, having seen this, screams ‘Virgil’s got a really big willy!’All heads shot in his direction. Abigail smiled and Julie’s eyes lit up. Really, girls?
We made it to dinner time like any other normal family. Well, that’s if you ignore the turkey sitting up at the table with a plate of corn. Dinner was great and the homemade Christmas pudding looked amazing. Paul lit the brandy-coated cake, the
flame engulfed everything in a 2 foot radius including Terrence’s tail feathers. With a squawk he legs it out across the yard and ignites the haystack. It’s now five o’clock, all fires are out, the kids are playing quietly and apart from me and Jackie, everybody else it seems is napping.
Merry Christmas. xx
Wednesday 26th December 2014
Boxing Day.
You couldn’t write the script for us! Around seven last night Jackie went into labour. We all ran about in a panic, called an ambulance, only to be told ‘It will take a while to get there’, and not to panic. Oh lol! Jackie’s body didn’t want to wait, and with the contractions coming only minutes apart we were having a united breakdown. Then amid the madness Chris and Virgil calmly began ordering us to fetch and carry clean sheets, towels, warm water. We watched gobsmacked as the usually hysterical Chris, aided by Virgil, delivered her grandchild. Dillon weighed in at 8 pounds 3 ounces. Baby’s perfect, Jackie’s fine.
And my sister is a legend. xx
Saturday 29th December 2014
Friday was Leigh’s sixteenth birthday. We said we’d take her to the city, but she chose to stay in and fuss over Dillon. Can’t say I blame her, we all have trouble putting him down.
Andy and Jess headed off to Jessica’s parents in the morning, and Penny and Mark arrived here after dropping Rhianne and Charlie off at their Nan’s.
As its Tony’s birthday today the men are taking him shooting. We’re expecting George to arrive sometime after twelve as he’s been granted special leave to come and see his son. Tina and Terry should be arriving from Aspen this evening for New Year. Other than that, all’s good.
Monday 31st December 2014
Barn Dance at the village hall.
Well, I’ve reached the end of another year, older and wiser. Well, older anyway. We have a new addition to the family ‒ well two, if you count Terrance aka Butterball; Chris has managed not to die; Daisy learned a new word, even if it was ‘dickhead’. I’ve seen hair go and come; I lived to see Julie be less promiscuous than Elizabeth; seen my best friend move a million miles away; and as for the mid-life crisis... we’re all getting old, we all have bits that don’t look the same or indeed function the same, so what if Joe’s aggravating habits are really aggravating me? Does it really matter that I feel like a teenager trapped in an old person’s body? This is life, this is my life. Now, where’s that skimpy dress from Morton’s? There is a jar of something out there with my name on it. Happy New Year.