What`s for dinner Clarey?: Granny sitting
I am writing from a single bed, al...: Granny sitting I am writing from a single bed, all is quiet, no teenagers stomping about homework, no bedtime story for Jemima , no fallin...
Tuesday, 10 February 2015
Granny sitting
I am writing from a single bed, all is quiet, no teenagers stomping about homework, no bedtime story for Jemima , no falling asleep on the sofa with Matty tonight, no I am Granny sitting! I feel deliciously tranquil , schoolwork and homework and housework have been shelved, let the spiders spin their webs, let's the Inspectors judge and condemn and rattle their clipboards, I am not home or responsible for anyone apart from Grandma. What a lovely occupation . Today we have looked through many photograph albums, I have seen her in her Rita Hayworth heyday, all 1950s teeny waisted, wrinkle free, girlish and with the sunshine on her face. The man at Ellesmere Port who asked her to stand on a spot to take the photo for her disabled badge didn't see the pin up I could see. The physio who came and talked very loudly and clearly as if she was talking to an alien didn't see the Jiving champion 1959 I could see. So I took her to see her sister who is nearly 90, whose memories were the same as Grandmas, she could instantly see the little sister skipping up the path, not the old lady tripping up the path now with a cronky old walking stick.
They chatted about pillow fights when their Auntie made them pick up all the feathers without the aid of a Hoover as the leccy was expensive. They talked about their babies , all grown up and grey ing now and about their fellas and what lovely lives they'd led and how St.Anthony helped them find anything that they'd lost like passports, keys, tickets even their memories. They kissed like two little girls, who shared an absolutely beautiful album only they could view.
We all of us must get old one day and our memories and marbles go and turn to forgetteries , we will find ourselves moaning as we bend down to do up our laces and groaning as we can't find our glasses. Time is our most precious commodity which we waste when we are young and busy and then want to go back to reclaim when we have the time and yet are too weary to enjoy.
I think I will try to slow down when I go home to my normal life, solve more crosswords and speak less cross words over cobwebs and washing up and messy bedrooms which are of no real importance. Perhaps these last few days, Granny has been infact looking after me.
Granny sitting steak with a sauce I can't remember...
My memory is like one of those silver things with holes in you find in the kitchen!
2fillet steaks seasoned with sea salt and black pepper
Butter
1red onion sliced
1tbs whole grain mustard
1pot double cream
1slug of pale cream sherry
1small beef stock pot
Chips
Salad
Fry the steaks in butter with the onions until golden add the sherry and cream, mustard and beef stock and reduce serve with chips and a green salad whilst doing your pelvic floor muscles without sliding off the leather reclining sofa. Ta dah!
I am writing from a single bed, all is quiet, no teenagers stomping about homework, no bedtime story for Jemima , no falling asleep on the sofa with Matty tonight, no I am Granny sitting! I feel deliciously tranquil , schoolwork and homework and housework have been shelved, let the spiders spin their webs, let's the Inspectors judge and condemn and rattle their clipboards, I am not home or responsible for anyone apart from Grandma. What a lovely occupation . Today we have looked through many photograph albums, I have seen her in her Rita Hayworth heyday, all 1950s teeny waisted, wrinkle free, girlish and with the sunshine on her face. The man at Ellesmere Port who asked her to stand on a spot to take the photo for her disabled badge didn't see the pin up I could see. The physio who came and talked very loudly and clearly as if she was talking to an alien didn't see the Jiving champion 1959 I could see. So I took her to see her sister who is nearly 90, whose memories were the same as Grandmas, she could instantly see the little sister skipping up the path, not the old lady tripping up the path now with a cronky old walking stick.
They chatted about pillow fights when their Auntie made them pick up all the feathers without the aid of a Hoover as the leccy was expensive. They talked about their babies , all grown up and grey ing now and about their fellas and what lovely lives they'd led and how St.Anthony helped them find anything that they'd lost like passports, keys, tickets even their memories. They kissed like two little girls, who shared an absolutely beautiful album only they could view.
We all of us must get old one day and our memories and marbles go and turn to forgetteries , we will find ourselves moaning as we bend down to do up our laces and groaning as we can't find our glasses. Time is our most precious commodity which we waste when we are young and busy and then want to go back to reclaim when we have the time and yet are too weary to enjoy.
I think I will try to slow down when I go home to my normal life, solve more crosswords and speak less cross words over cobwebs and washing up and messy bedrooms which are of no real importance. Perhaps these last few days, Granny has been infact looking after me.
Granny sitting steak with a sauce I can't remember...
My memory is like one of those silver things with holes in you find in the kitchen!
2fillet steaks seasoned with sea salt and black pepper
Butter
1red onion sliced
1tbs whole grain mustard
1pot double cream
1slug of pale cream sherry
1small beef stock pot
Chips
Salad
Fry the steaks in butter with the onions until golden add the sherry and cream, mustard and beef stock and reduce serve with chips and a green salad whilst doing your pelvic floor muscles without sliding off the leather reclining sofa. Ta dah!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)