I had a truly wonderful weekend in York, watching grandson Jack slay it in Legally Blonde, making the acquaintance of Various Vikings (as you do, when in York), walking the walls of that beautiful city - more (much more)
of which in future blogs - before granddaughter Hazel Bagel drove me home. We chatted all the way, as a kind of precursor to the following day (as in, today) when we were both intent on not allowing our jaws to rust.
My granddaughter is the most delightful company. I learn so much from her. I didn’t know, for example, that it is perfectly possible to take photos on a mobile phone which will make you look
beautiful. Or, in the case of those not bestowed with natural beauty, a bit more beautiful. We take a selfie in the new Wedding Garden at Field Place, in front of the fountain depicting two swans in flight. I tell my granddaughter that swans mate for life
so this is a Fitting Fountain for a Wedding Garden. I look, well, a little more beautiful than usual in our selfie.
We have to wait in for the doctor to call for
Mr B before we can set out on our next adventure but we use the time wisely by playing bananagrams.If you have never played Bananagrams, I thoroughly recommend it - it is like Scabble but not so pressured. “Is Corgy a word?” asks my Hazel. I respond
reluctantly that it isn’t - but she has already realised that by removing the “c”, she has the word “orgy”. Yes, definitely a word, we agree. Hazel posts a picture of her Bananagram grid on Instagram and almost immediately a friend
fires back, excitedly: “Orgy!?”
Once the doctor has called (Mr B complains that giving up smoking almost a year ago doesn’t seem to have made
that much difference to his health but the Doc is having none of that) Hazel and I set off on a seafront walk to the Bluebird Café. I pose by a beach hut, pretending it is mine - Hazel agrees with me that ownership of a beach hut would be the ultimate
in Seaside One-Up-Manship. We ( as in, Hazel, don’t you know?) take more selfies of ourselves against a background of waves crashing in to shore. We both look beautiful, though, unlike me, my Golden Girl needs no enhancement. We are home in time to cook
This granddaughter aspires to tread the boards of a West End theatre one day. I am reminded of her first starring role, as Dorothy in The Wizard of
Oz, at Hook Primary School, quite a few years ago now. I remember that, when I went to watch her in performance, I wore my red shoes - the nearest I could get to ruby slippers - as a symbol of solidarity. Hazel was not exactly impressed. Today I tell her,
over dinner (prawn and chicken stir fry, cooked with her own fair hands) that on the opening night of her first appearance on a West End stage I promise that I will be in the audience - and wearing ruby slippers.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” I challenge her.
“Oh, yes, I do,” she
responds stoutly (and, possibly, a trifle resignedly) “I know you too well, Nanna...”