I spent a most pleasant lunch-time yesterday, talking about grand-children with two of The Girls, both of them proud grandparents like me.
It proved a trifle tricky because, as you know, I have an Extraordinary Eight grandchildren, aged from 16 down to 11 weeks whereas my two companions had but three between them. So, here was the dilemma: was I allowed to talk more than the others,
given that I have more (as in, children) to talk about? Or would this appear boringly boastful?
And, if I were to be allowed more time, should this be commensurate
to the number of children I have in comparison with my fellows? Should I have eight times as much time as one and four timnes as much as the other? Put like that, it didn’t sound fair at all.
I decided, therefore, that it would be best if we all had equal “air time” to describe the talents of these young people who mean so much to all of us. But, oh, I was bursting with pride and many an
anecdote and it was so hard not to butt in out of turn. Let me explain what I mean. One of my Fellow Nans told the story of her trip to Amberley Chalk Pits Museum with her littl’un. Yes, yes, yes! I wanted to say, I’ve been there with
Katie and Eleanor, and I’ve been there with Jack and Hazel, and maybe, possibly, depending on what else we are doing, we might take the two oldest of the Little Welsh Boys there when they come to stay this summer...
The other Nan told us all about her eight month old grand-daughter who sounds a little star in the making. So I was desperate to chime in with a tale or two (or three or four...) about my
tiny stars, Morgan the Flirt and Faris the Soldier. But could I fit it all in, before it was someone else’s turn to boast?
My friends bemoaned the
fact that looking after the grandchildren is so expensive, with all the things they need / want / demand, so I told them about one of Sam and James’s favourite places to visit – Poundland. You can set them loose in Poundland and tell them
that they can choose anything, absolutely anything they want and YOU WILL BUY IT FOR THEM. They both laughed their socks off, though I did wonder if this particular tale showed me off in a good light. Possibly, they were thinking what a very stingy
grandmother I am...
After our sunny lunch, two of us went off to the cinema to see The Great Gatsby. We nearly fell asleep in the first half but we persevered
and made it to the final curtain. Poor old Gatsby, who spent his life gathering wealth and possessions because he thought this was the only way to gain the affections of his One Love, the fey and fickle Daisy. Love has to be about more than that.
Tomorrow, two more of the Extraordinary Eight, fifteen year old Jack and Hazel (13), will be here for a seaside visit. “You’re lucky they still want to come,”
the hygienist told me today, as she was poking about painfully in my poor, open mouth, “Mine are younger than that and they’re always trying to get out of a visit to the grandparents.”
I wonder if Jack and Hazel REALLY want to come? Left to their own devices, would they come up with an excuse or two not to travel down to Worthing with their Mum? It’s not as if I have made any special arrangements to
entice them here – just the usual fun and frolics. Maybe I should take a leaf from Gatsby’s book after all and throw them a party to end all parties?
Do you think they’re too old for a visit to Poundland?