A new series of Long Lost Family starts on TV this week. I have prepared by adding two packs of man-size tissues to my weekly Ocado shop for the duration. Tears will, undoubtedly, be shed.
If you have never watched Long Lost Family, then you can probably guess the content. Nicky Campbell and Davina McCall meet mothers wanting to trace their sons, brothers looking for their sisters, daughters in search of their fathers and all possible
permutations on the general theme of tracking down a long lost family member. At some point during the programme, Davina will turn up at someone's home, cast dewy eyes on the Hopeful One and say, in a treacly voice: "Well, we have found your mother / father/
son / daughter/ brother / sister." Delete as appropriate.
After that, there will be a meeting. Davina will take the by now Expectant One to some pre-arranged venue, stopping at the door (or gate or garden
hedge or whatever) to say melodramatically: "This is as far as I will come with you. Now go and meet your mother / father / see above."
I have to admit that if I were in the position of the Seeker After Family,
I would much prefer to have the attentions of the lovely Nicky Campbell - though at the end of the day it's not the presenters but the stories of the Lost and the Found that tug at the heart strings and have the Usher Gene in full overflow. I wish I could
weep beautifully but, no, my nose will drip, my eyes will redden, my cheeks will puff out like a hamster's. There are, however, few things more satisfying than a Good Cry. Always provided, I suppose, that it is someone else's story you are weeping for.
Today Mr B and I played out our own version of Long Lost Family when our nephew Andy and his wife, the Lovely Julie, came to Sunday Lunch at ours. Neither Davina nor Nicky were called into action because Andy and Julie
could hardly be described as "long lost" though they are certainly family. True we haven't actually seen them for a good few years but, thanks to Facebook and the Daily Blog, we have been able to follow each other's lives and times reasonably successfully.
There was once a time when they were "long lost" in as far as we didn't have an address or contact details for them. You are wondering why I didn't call upon Nicky Nice Guy and Dewy-eyed Davina. Instead I consulted the
website 192.com. I was in the middle of some family history research, trying to trace ancestors whose perch on my family tree was a tad precarious - when something made me tap in Andy's name. There was just one fella of that name living in the town where he
and Julie were living when we were last in touch. It had to be worth a letter and a stamp. And so it proved to be.
We had so much family business to catch up on today. I am delighted to say that Sunday Lunch
was served on time despite the fact that I had to take an unscheduled trip to the newsagent to query why our Sunday newspaper had failed to turn up on our door mat. Two young members of staff were desperately trying to cope with an influx of cross customers
on the same mission as I. Mrs Angry from Number 22 was in front of me in the queue and made such an almighty fuss that my crossness turned to sympathy. Apparently the manager was on leave, cover arrangements had fallen through and all the paper boys and girls
turned up to find that nobody had unlocked the shop. I stored up this Sorry Tale to recount to Mr B when I arrived home. I thought it would add a touch of excitement to his life but, to be honest, all he wanted was to read the sports pages.
We ate roast lamb dinner with a deconstructed Eton Mess for pudding. If you have never had a deconstructed Eton Mess, then think DIY. A bowl of strawberries, a jug of cream and a plate of meringues. Masterchef, it may not be
but, hey, this was the very last day of Wimbledon 2016 and what else could we serve up but strawberries?
We are already planning our next meet-up when we hope Andy's sister will be able to join us. The more
the merrier in my book. We will pore over old photo albums and remind ourselves of the Olden Days when Mr B had hair and I wore mini skirts. Yes, indeed, it really was that long ago.
I'm so very glad we found
ourselves around a Sunday Lunch table today. As Davina and Nicky would doubtless agree: where families are concerned, it's Finders Keepers.