Last night we lit a candle to remember those who died in the Great War.
That's what is generally called a "Royal we" because Mr B was not particularly supportive of the
whole idea. It wasn't so much the lighting of the candle itself, rather the Turning Out of Lights which accompanied it. This meant, Mr B complained bitterly, that he couldn't see to operate the TV remote control.
I had had a bit of trouble finding a candle with which to illuminate the unwelcome (at least to Mr B) darkness. I could have used one of my three red Christmas candles but then I would have been one short, come the 25th of December. I do realise that
this is a small sacrifice indeed compared with those made by the men we were commemorating. I am, indeed, ashamed to even admit to it but then this is the Daily Blog and I know you expect total honesty from me or what's the point? I couldn't remember, either,
where I had stored the two church-type candles. Though half burnt down, one of these would have been just perfect, displayed in our kitchen window. As it was, I had to resort to a night light. I know, I know, but it was all I could find. It looked a little,
well, insignificant, viewed from the garden so I set it on top of an upturned flower pot which did the trick perfectly.
Mr B came out into the front garden to see what I was up to. He remarked on the fact
that none of our neighbours appeared to be burning candles in their front windows. In fact, most of them seemed to have houses ablaze with lights. I suggested that they were all probably busy with their remote controls. Mr B did not even feel this was worthy
of a response.
Lots of my friends posted photographs of their burning candles on Facebook. They were, one and all, far more impressive than mine. But, hey, it's the thought that counts isn't it?
Today I have been preparing to welcome another two grandchildren on a Sunny Worthing Seaside Holiday. As regular readers know, my idea of preparations is not about cooking and cleaning but is all about plans for some
fun. It's going to be a rather different kind of fun from the activities which engaged my Little Welsh Boys last week. Katie and Elle, at 17 and 14 respectively, will have their own very definite ideas of what constitutes "fun". They have, however, been coming
to stay since they were four years old so they know what's what. I wonder what they will think of the fact that their beloved American Diner is being transformed into a branch of Harry Ramsden's?
upstairs with all the games which the Little Welsh Boys enjoyed last week - and struggle downstairs with arms full of other, more "grown-up" games. Pick and Mix, the Ladybird Game, Build a Beetle and Bus Stop have all been stowed away in the bedroom cupboard
and been replaced by Yahtzee, Rat Race, Cranium, the special Kent edition of Monopoly and the Truly Amazing Bananagrams.
I try to remember where I put the Wii. Now that would be worth finding. Plus I need
to look through all our DVDs for our possible evening entertainment. Where the Little Welsh Boys were content with Tom and Jerry and Sponge Bob Square Pants (whom I still keep calling Square Bob Sponge Pants) the Swift Girls will surely be up for Something
Completely Different. I am so looking forward to cosy evenings with hot chocolate and a movie.
I have asked the girls to think of anything they really, really want to do but I will, of course, be well prepared
with some ideas of my own. That's what Nannas are for.
I am thinking back to the early years when the girls were around the same age as the Little Welsh Boys are now. There was only one game we played which
I found difficult to adapt to and that was the Dog Game. Dog-lovers the pair of them, their favourite visit was to my friend Clarissa who not only owned dogs but was more than happy to allow the girls to walk them to their hearts' content. Failing the Real
Thing, the girls were happy to improvise by playing the Dog Game which involved us all in pretending to be dogs. I always tried to play the part of the owner, the vet, someone human, don't you know, but I couldn't always get out of being a Four Legged Friend.
The thing is, the girls were so very good at being canines while I was rubbish at it. I never did learn.
The girls will doubtless be quite horrified to be reminded of the Dog Game, now that they are such Grown
Up Ladies and all. What on earth am I thinking about, dragging up the past?
And yet, and yet - the past shapes the present, and the present the future. A night light in the kitchen window, a memory from happy
Tomorrow we will start creating new memories. We will have SUCH fun!