Young Faris has a confession to make. He is a little worried about his Grandad’s reaction. The fact is that, at the tender age of six, he has become a Chelsea supporter, with a bright blue baseball hat to prove it.
I reassure him that his Grandad (a fully paid-up Spurs supporter) will just be pleased that his youngest grandson is embracing the Beautiful Game. Even though he is supporting the Blues. This won’t stop him crowing if Spurs beat Chelsea - but it’s
an important fact of being a Footie Fan (as The Rascal has yet to learn) that one has to face triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same. As someone once memorably said.
I am extremely touched when my grandson tells me he still remembers my story about football in the “Olden Days” when the players, unable to afford shin pads, would roll up old newspapers and stuff them down their socks
for protection. My little story of Times Past (garnered from a Sporting Memories meeting) has obviously impressed him.
The whole idea of my Long Weekend Away was
for rest and relaxation so that I could return refreshed and up for all the challenges of 24/7 caring. There would, of course, be interludes of Merry Mayhem along the way, courtesy of the Rascally Trio. Add in the excitement of a birthday disco party (see
my previous blog) and you can imagine it was fun all the way.
I arrived around 12.30 p.m. and was carried off by the Middle and Youngest of the Darling Daughters
for a welcome lunch. I had been told that this was happening and told of, on any account, to eat on the train - so I arrived appropriately starving. My Stomach (of which, as you know, I Am Always Thinking) suffered the delay without too much grumbling....
After a lovely, leisurely lunch (I had an omelette, in case you need to know. My plate appeared to be rather larger than those of either of my daughters though my Stomach
wasn’t bothered by the Inequality in Portion Size) we set off to meet the Trio from school. This is exactly the kind of activity I love most on my weekends away - the mundane, the everyday things which are special when you only experience them once in
a while. As the Trio careered off homewards, we followed behind them and pondered on the inexplicable fact that, while other children seem to be exhausted at the end of the school week, our Trio are still firing on all cylinders.
At home, the Twins are all abuzz to see what I have bought them for their birthday. I, too, can wait to see them open my carefully wrapped parcels but my anticipation is tinged with
worry - will they like their presents? Will they come up to expectations? I have every finger and toe crossed...
It was their mother who came up with the idea
(no, honestly, I am not seeking to apportion blame here) - what did I think about buying her little daughters musical boxes with twirling ballerinas inside? She reminded me how much she and her sisters had loved theirs when they were littl’uns. I was
convinced - but would Tala and Lilia feel the same?
Oh, the sheer choice of musical boxes when you shop on-line! Especially as I needed to source two musical boxes
which - like the Twins themselves - were “the same, but different.” So discombobulated was I that I had to call upon the advice and assistance of the Youngest of the Darling Daughters to see my way through the Musical Maze. Lots of the musical
boxes had various princesses of the Disney Variety twirling inside, one even boasted a unicorn. Sweet as they were, for me only a ballerina would do. Some on-line descriptions were a little vague on the actual music being played when the box was wound up -
and I really needed to know this. I can still remember, with affection, an aunt’s musical box which played Für Elise. It was my first introduction to that particularly haunting piece of music and one I loved from first hearing it.
I watch the Twins open their presents with my heart in my mouth. They open their boxes - one blue, one lavender - almost simultaneously and the music of Swan Lake (from Tala’s
box) and The Waltz of the Flowers (from Lilia’s) mingles tunefully. Inside each box, a little letter from me telling them about an outing I’ve planned for next year to take them to see their very first ballet. To be honest, they aren’t too
interested in the letters but I don’t mind because they are both transfixed by the twirling ballerinas (Tala’s in white, Lilia’s in pink.) I find myself relaxing with relief - all is well.
The ballerinas just go on twirling...