It’s the annual Betweenies Day. Nothing at all to do with the actual Tweenies (Jake, Milo, Bella and Fizz) much beloved in the past by the Little Welsh Boys though now, sadly, replaced in their affections by Star
Wars. No, the Betweenies Day is the day that falls between our wedding anniversary (as in, yesterday) and my birthday (as in tomorrow.) On Betweenies Day, no special favours are meted out to me by Mr B. It is Business As Usual.
The postwoman has been busy trailing up and down our garden path with cards. The anniversary cards are all on display on the mantelpiece; the birthday cards are in a little heap on the sideboard waiting
for tomorrow when I will tear them all open, read them aloud with tears and / or laughter as appropriate to the sentiments expressed – and exclaim “Haven’t I done well!” when I reach the last card in the heap.
However, here is a card which is a bit of a puzzler. For a start, although the envelope carries our correct address, it has been sent to “Mr S.H. and Mrs D. Ball.” Who
are these people when they are at home? we wonder aloud to each other. Mr B says there is only one way to find out and exhorts me to open the envelope. He retires to the safe distance of the dining room table; presumably he is worried it might contain a bomb.
Everything becomes crystal clear when I open the envelope. The card inside is a thank you card from our Son-in-Law, Dunk’em Dave (the one married
to the Youngest of the Darling Daughters – I know it’s hard for my poor, loyal readers to keep up sometimes with all the branches – not to mention the numerous twigs – on our family tree). He has used his pet names for us –
Slaphead (Mr B) and Dozey (me.) Hence the Mr S.H. and Mrs D Ball on the envelope. We should have guessed.
It is no ordinary thank you card either. Dunk’em
Dave (so named after last year’s Family Seaside Day for reasons I am sure you can imagine) has written his message of thanks “in the round”. In order to read and inwardly digest, you have to keep turning the card around to read the
next bit – though the writer has supplied helpful arrows to make sure we keep on track. Even with the arrows, I feel quite dizzy by the time I reach the last few words at the very centre of the card. We do seem to be possessed of eccentric
relatives when it comes to creative writing. Mr B’s brother, Mr H (yes, the same Mr H who wrote the lovely poem I shared with you in yesterday’s blog) is partial to mirror writing; our godson writes in spirals; and our brother-in-law conducts any
really important conversations (like wedding speeches or addresses at special parties) in verse. He takes con–verse–ations to a whole new level.
It is pleasing to know that our birthday present has been well-received by its recipient though as he had supplied us with a gift list we were on pretty safe ground. It is also a relief to know that being a whole year older appears to have had
no effect on his well-being though he says he is still waiting to see if there is any significance in the fact that he is now as old as his house number. Now isn’t that interesting? We live at Number 9 so unless I start living my life backwards,
and at double speed, there’s absolutely no chance of me checking out this conundrum for myself. However in two years time I shall be as old as the house number where I was born. That is, indeed, Quite a Thought. Does this mean
I will be back where I started?
As thank you cards go, this one doe, therefore, possess particular qualities being (i) challenging; (ii) thought-provoking;
(iii) sincere; and (iv) cheeky all at the same time.
Oh, yes, the front of the card depicts a sheep carrying an over-size daisy and the caption “Thank
Ewe!” The card is produced by a company called Emotional Rescue (which sounds more like a counselling service than a greetings card manufacturers) and is printed on paper manufactured from trees grown in sustainable forests. All good stuff, as they say.
The thank you card has pride of place on the mantelpiece at the moment – though when it comes to displaying all the birthday cards which I will open tomorrow, it might
just find itself pushed to the back a bit. If anyone reads it and asks me who Slaphead and Dozey are, I plan to shrug expressively as if I have absolutely no idea.
It's just Betweenie you and me...