Friday, 15 May 2009
Friday.
Ann showing a few of her aquilegia (or granny's nightcaps). The herb garden is full of them at the moment.
Yesterday was a lovely day. Started off with a totally unexpected, but very welcome, letter. Then later in the morning our good friend Eileen arrived in her car to take us into Ipswich. She said this was a 'thankyou' trip. We went to her club (the Ipswich and Suffolk club) for lunch and then a talk. The club started life as a gentlemens' club (it showed: very masculine and full of mahogany furniture). We had a drink in the bar then were called through to the dining room. Four large round tables seating ten people each. Before we ate we were introduced, or introduced ourselves to our neighbours. Ann was next to Eileen on one side, and an elderly lady on the other. When Ann heard what part of Ipswich she lived in She asked her if she knew a Molly Clegg, a cousin Ann had lost touch with some years ago. "Yes" says Ann's neighbour, "She's a friend of mine. She's at the next table, sitting back to your husband." It was lovely to see her again. Despite the intervening thirty odd years, she instantly recognised Ann, and had changed remarkably little herself. She and her husband (now dead), although childless, had been very kind to our children. She could hardly believe that they now had children who were almost grown up themselves. At this point we all had to return to our places as lunch was being served. Two choices. I had lamb, with sweetbread, in a pastry crust, followed by jam rolly polly pudding (suet pastry), and custard. Ann had the fish (plaice) and said it was very fresh. After coffee, we had the talk, which was about the restoration of the locks on the river Gipping. Most interesting, especially as we know stretches of the river. Then, after Ann and Molly got together to exchange present addresses, Eileen drove us home. We'd all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We then 'phoned Ann's mother to ascertain the exact relationship of Ann to Molly. It transpired that Ann's great grandfather ('old' Robert Clayton), after having a family and being widowed, had married again, and sired Molly's mother . I worked that one out as Ann and Molly being first half cousins, once removed. Still, it's all family, I suppose. That's Norfolk for you. Choir practice in the evening, and that went well , too. Both felt we were in good voice for once. We should have sung - but didn't : 'When you come to the end of a perfect day.'
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6 comments:
So who were Ann's paternal grandfather & grandmother, I'm afraid I've forgotten their christian-names? And did Gran Smith have a fore-name, er... and was there a matching grandad?
That is a beautiful picture of Ann's hands....
Hands that have loved, caressed and cared,
Hands that have held and healed and dared,
Hands with a history, done and dusted,
Steady hands that were never flustered.
Hands that tend others,
Hands that tend flowers,
Tendering hands that can soothe you for hours,
Comforting hands, the hands of a Granny,
Hands that tell everyone - "Here's Granny-Anny!"
A beautiful poem for a beautiful picture... thank you pater and frater.
Hi Nea,
Thanks for the kind words; the Romans were quirky about relationships, distinguishing between paternal uncles (your father's brothers) and maternal uncles (your mother's brothers, so you may address Michael, David and Timothy as 'avunculus' but I am your 'patruus' (pronounced pat-roo-us) But of course you may call me aunty if you prefer as you are too far away to be chastised for it!
Speaking of aunts, father's sisters were 'amita' and mother's sisters were 'matertera'.
Your relatively affectionate Uncle, Carl.
So you're not a carbuncle then?
Only if you swap the b for l and move the first syllable to the end; unless of course you are referring to the gemstone, in which case, I regret I have never been a dazzler.
All in all I suspect you're right, I am a bit of a pain - but not so painful as a carbuncle I hope!
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