V - very keen on going out for little walks and a chat. Last time we had several expeditions from the house. One was to St George's Square, where we sat on a bench in the sun and I saw her eyes shut so gently, just like that, still sitting up, pretty much mid-sentence. Like a little dormouse needing rest. Smile.
W - wanting me to answer the phone, even though I am out driving for hours each day, go volunteering and doing errands, and sometimes shut out the world by sitting on the sofa watching a film.
X - extremely good at being tolerant, I have never been ticked off for being late, or for not visiting often enough or not phoning enough, etc.
Y - yoghurt with prunes! Her favourite pudding, one she didn't try to get us to eat.
Z - 'having a zizz' my parents' word for 'having a nap'.
Showing posts with label my mother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my mother. Show all posts
Thursday, 28 May 2015
Friday, 22 May 2015
O, P, Q, R, S, T, U - Alphabet of my Mother
O-juice, a childish name for orange juice.
P - that piano..I bought a very second-hand piano when I was around 12 with my birthday money. My mother had to spend way more than that to get the ancient, but beautiful piano moved from St George's Square, round the corner to our house and up the stairs. It had dark scrolled legs and brass candle holders, but not too many hammers! They'd fall off inside. Mmm, it smelt lovely when I opened the lid and made strange noises by reaching down to play with the metal strings!
Q - Queen, I don't know whether she has met the Queen. If she has, she is keeping quiet about it.
R - refusing to play cards with us point blank, though she let us use a lovely double set of French playing cards they must have been given as a wedding present. Or did she never realise that we had started to use those cards? They have come with me to this house.
S - the Studio at Ovington Square. How can she have managed with such a huge, cold space to live in? The kitchen was primitive. There was no wardrobe or washing machine. No storage. No freezer. A paraffin heater.
T - theatres, threads, tatting, toblerone...none of these have any resonance. Tricycle, tidbits, Tyndrum...nope. "Tink, tink" is what she says when clinking her spoon against something, but I don't really know what it means, just a cheerful expression.
U - Umbrella, up, uven! 'Useful' as in 'a useful bit of string' when handling something clearly useless and which I'd bin straight away.
P - that piano..I bought a very second-hand piano when I was around 12 with my birthday money. My mother had to spend way more than that to get the ancient, but beautiful piano moved from St George's Square, round the corner to our house and up the stairs. It had dark scrolled legs and brass candle holders, but not too many hammers! They'd fall off inside. Mmm, it smelt lovely when I opened the lid and made strange noises by reaching down to play with the metal strings!
Q - Queen, I don't know whether she has met the Queen. If she has, she is keeping quiet about it.
R - refusing to play cards with us point blank, though she let us use a lovely double set of French playing cards they must have been given as a wedding present. Or did she never realise that we had started to use those cards? They have come with me to this house.
S - the Studio at Ovington Square. How can she have managed with such a huge, cold space to live in? The kitchen was primitive. There was no wardrobe or washing machine. No storage. No freezer. A paraffin heater.
T - theatres, threads, tatting, toblerone...none of these have any resonance. Tricycle, tidbits, Tyndrum...nope. "Tink, tink" is what she says when clinking her spoon against something, but I don't really know what it means, just a cheerful expression.
U - Umbrella, up, uven! 'Useful' as in 'a useful bit of string' when handling something clearly useless and which I'd bin straight away.
اريد ان اقرا عن امك من فضلك
...
...
والدتي ولدت في فنتينبلو في جنوب مدينة بريس, عام ١٩٣٨. درست اللغة الفرنسية, الروسية, اللاتينية. لا درست امي في جامعة ولكن عملت في لندن.
كل اليوم تحب ان تقرا الجريدة وتشرب قهوة كبوجينو في مقهى صربي.
...
So - that's my bit of writing about my mother. Please dive in and write something short about your own mother, in the comments box. If it's too long I will give up and not be able to read it. I need to read actual Arabic.
Monday, 27 April 2015
I, J, K, L, M, N - alphabet of my mother
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream - My father was the one who'd recite this one! We'd have tinned peaches with our vanilla ice cream, or my father would make chocolate sauce. A different version every time, just like mine now.
J - my brother. They both go out together to cafes, new ones each time, which is easy because London is built of cafes.
Kisses - she kissed/kisses me on the top of my head if I am sitting on a chair in the dining room and she is walking past. Very nice. That's my normal. I catch my sons with kisses too if I can.
Liver - and kidney are her dishes for when my father is well out of range. Delicious, I'd eat it with her.
Money - she likes people who have it, and likes to see it spent on beautiful items. Hmm, you can't spend it and still have it, I'm a banker's daughter.
Nou-nou - my mother's own mother was the 3rd child in Paris. At some point a wet nurse came to the family, leaving her own little one behind in Normandy. She was called Nou-Nou, a baby name for her. I have just looked it up, it's the formal French word for nanny, well, I never knew that.
...
Hozier - Take me to the church - listen to the softness in the singer's voice
J - my brother. They both go out together to cafes, new ones each time, which is easy because London is built of cafes.
Kisses - she kissed/kisses me on the top of my head if I am sitting on a chair in the dining room and she is walking past. Very nice. That's my normal. I catch my sons with kisses too if I can.
Liver - and kidney are her dishes for when my father is well out of range. Delicious, I'd eat it with her.
Money - she likes people who have it, and likes to see it spent on beautiful items. Hmm, you can't spend it and still have it, I'm a banker's daughter.
Nou-nou - my mother's own mother was the 3rd child in Paris. At some point a wet nurse came to the family, leaving her own little one behind in Normandy. She was called Nou-Nou, a baby name for her. I have just looked it up, it's the formal French word for nanny, well, I never knew that.
...
Hozier - Take me to the church - listen to the softness in the singer's voice
Friday, 24 April 2015
Disaster tourist in Oxford - Taste of Cherries by Abbas Kiarastami - Sitting on a kerb
Disaster tourist
I stood and looked up at the black burnt timbers of the one damaged section of the Randolph's roof. I wonder how long it will be before the structure is cool enough for a scaffolding roof to be put over it. When it rains the water will add to the water already poured in by the fire engines. I wouldn't like to be managing that building. Imagine the smell and the damp and the damage inside. My own house is quite complicated enough.
Taste of Cherries
Each time I watched further into the film, restarting from the beginning.
I found the pressurising attitude of the central character worrying. Was this representative of his internal problem? The soldier and even the birds rushed away from him. I don't know where to start with making comments. It's similar to engaging with a poem, the more I am in the zone of floating about with thoughts and memories, the more I could discuss any topic under the sun and relate it to or find it in the film. It would depend on the person I am talking with too and what they say.
I could give myself some sort of severe constraint in order to make myself write comments replying to my own self, based on and circling around the film. One small page of my note book, 3 words per line, fill each page, stick to one topic per page, keep going up til the tiny notebook is complete, then leave it, never to return. That sounds intransigent enough to produce results!
It's mulberries in the film anyway, so why put cherries in the title in English?
Kerb
I called my mother, she was in the car.
I told her 'I am your one and only daughter' when she wasn't quite sure who was calling her. Then she said I had sounded different, she hadn't recognised me, so I explained that I'd just finished work, so maybe that was it.
Then I sat down on a kerb, by a bike park. One or two people looked at me as if I were in trouble, but I wasn't, just chatting and listening carefully, blocking out the whole city.
My mother was looking on the bright side a little too much, so I said 'Things aren't 100%, are they?' which she agreed with. I could hear it in her voice.
I stood and looked up at the black burnt timbers of the one damaged section of the Randolph's roof. I wonder how long it will be before the structure is cool enough for a scaffolding roof to be put over it. When it rains the water will add to the water already poured in by the fire engines. I wouldn't like to be managing that building. Imagine the smell and the damp and the damage inside. My own house is quite complicated enough.
Taste of Cherries
Each time I watched further into the film, restarting from the beginning.
I found the pressurising attitude of the central character worrying. Was this representative of his internal problem? The soldier and even the birds rushed away from him. I don't know where to start with making comments. It's similar to engaging with a poem, the more I am in the zone of floating about with thoughts and memories, the more I could discuss any topic under the sun and relate it to or find it in the film. It would depend on the person I am talking with too and what they say.
I could give myself some sort of severe constraint in order to make myself write comments replying to my own self, based on and circling around the film. One small page of my note book, 3 words per line, fill each page, stick to one topic per page, keep going up til the tiny notebook is complete, then leave it, never to return. That sounds intransigent enough to produce results!
It's mulberries in the film anyway, so why put cherries in the title in English?
Kerb
I called my mother, she was in the car.
I told her 'I am your one and only daughter' when she wasn't quite sure who was calling her. Then she said I had sounded different, she hadn't recognised me, so I explained that I'd just finished work, so maybe that was it.
Then I sat down on a kerb, by a bike park. One or two people looked at me as if I were in trouble, but I wasn't, just chatting and listening carefully, blocking out the whole city.
My mother was looking on the bright side a little too much, so I said 'Things aren't 100%, are they?' which she agreed with. I could hear it in her voice.
Saturday, 18 April 2015
A, B, C, D - alphabet of my mother
Apple - My mother used to cut up an apple into 8 pieces and then peel it. She'd do this once my father had left the table after dinner. My brother and I would stay at the table to chat about how I was born or other important things. When I was pregnant with Thomas and feeling that I needed to stay sitting on the bean bag instead of standing up to make lunch for them, she brought me a saucer with apple cut into these same shapes :)
Books - She would read standing up, or walking up and down the stairs. She could even translate from French to English for us, to explain why she was enjoying a particular section of a Claudine book she'd just picked up. Sometimes she'd have the newspaper and would read out one phrase because it make her laugh. My father used to say that she just counted the pages, because she read so fast. I think she read out of order too, jumping around in a book.
Chicken - She'd make very tasty roast chicken, with no fuss or explaining what recipe she'd followed. She just cooked it. Then she'd simmer the bones to make soup, again with no fuss, she'd just do it.
Dancing - I don't think she was ever a dancer, but she did mention a film in the late 50's which involved twisting in the aisles. She has never been interested in Scottish Dancing, so I went along with my father and learnt it with him.
Enjoying - cafes, making toast, throwing the keys out of their bedroom windows when I rang the bell at 3 in the morning after a party, buying me apricot Danish and cappuccino at more cafes, laughing as I push her in hospital in a wonky wheelchair, agreeing to bunk off church and talk together before meeting up with my father after the service for the drinks afterwards.
Basically everything is an opportunity for imperfect happiness.
Finding - or rather, not finding things.
One of my talents is to suggest looking under her side of the bed for whateveritis!
Great swear words - her mantra when stressed when we were teenage was 'boredom and nausea' which I now realise is a translation of Sartre's book La Nausee.
Hats - those big floppy hats for weddings used to cause big trouble if my brother and I somehow squashed them while they were on the shelf behind us in the back of the car. Oh dear!
Books - She would read standing up, or walking up and down the stairs. She could even translate from French to English for us, to explain why she was enjoying a particular section of a Claudine book she'd just picked up. Sometimes she'd have the newspaper and would read out one phrase because it make her laugh. My father used to say that she just counted the pages, because she read so fast. I think she read out of order too, jumping around in a book.
Chicken - She'd make very tasty roast chicken, with no fuss or explaining what recipe she'd followed. She just cooked it. Then she'd simmer the bones to make soup, again with no fuss, she'd just do it.
Dancing - I don't think she was ever a dancer, but she did mention a film in the late 50's which involved twisting in the aisles. She has never been interested in Scottish Dancing, so I went along with my father and learnt it with him.
Enjoying - cafes, making toast, throwing the keys out of their bedroom windows when I rang the bell at 3 in the morning after a party, buying me apricot Danish and cappuccino at more cafes, laughing as I push her in hospital in a wonky wheelchair, agreeing to bunk off church and talk together before meeting up with my father after the service for the drinks afterwards.
Basically everything is an opportunity for imperfect happiness.
Finding - or rather, not finding things.
One of my talents is to suggest looking under her side of the bed for whateveritis!
Great swear words - her mantra when stressed when we were teenage was 'boredom and nausea' which I now realise is a translation of Sartre's book La Nausee.
Hats - those big floppy hats for weddings used to cause big trouble if my brother and I somehow squashed them while they were on the shelf behind us in the back of the car. Oh dear!
Friday, 6 February 2015
Sharing our parents - Lost mini films
Parents
I shared my mother with the local cafe recently. I actually gave her to the owner to look after her while I took my car round to the car park. I came back to find her at a table and being greeted with kisses. That's a real Didcot welcome.
When friends of mine have their relatives at village events I try to spend time with them. Someone else's parents are the next best thing to my own.
Mini films
I have lost my latest phone which has my short films on it. Including one of T and my mother in law talking. He had come home on a flying visit so she wasn't expecting him to appear in her kitchen. I stood there and filmed while they chatted.
My unplanned films are precious.
I shared my mother with the local cafe recently. I actually gave her to the owner to look after her while I took my car round to the car park. I came back to find her at a table and being greeted with kisses. That's a real Didcot welcome.
When friends of mine have their relatives at village events I try to spend time with them. Someone else's parents are the next best thing to my own.
Mini films
I have lost my latest phone which has my short films on it. Including one of T and my mother in law talking. He had come home on a flying visit so she wasn't expecting him to appear in her kitchen. I stood there and filmed while they chatted.
My unplanned films are precious.
Tuesday, 25 November 2014
Having my mother to stay: it feels like Christmas
The cat from next door has started to go straight to her bed in the mornings. I go in and see them both in the bed. Having a memory foam top layer was a good decision.
I move the tv cable from downstairs to upstairs and back again each night and morning. It is important to my mother to be able to see the woolly mammoth dissection programme. So I'm crawling around under my son's desk more than I ever have before to do the plugging in and unplugging.
Soon we will open up the old stationary boxes her mother kept the Christmas decorations in. They have been passed on to me. I think we can use an unused fireplace as the spot to install the crib. Maybe this year I can put logs and dry leaves from the garden around it. Every year it looks different.
I have not been able to spend Christmas with my parents for various excellent reasons for many years. We can have a mini one here instead. I even have a pudding with cherries in the middle.
She is on the sofa sleeping, with a duvet and the cat on top of her. A real version of family stuff going on in our own stable/house.
I move the tv cable from downstairs to upstairs and back again each night and morning. It is important to my mother to be able to see the woolly mammoth dissection programme. So I'm crawling around under my son's desk more than I ever have before to do the plugging in and unplugging.
Soon we will open up the old stationary boxes her mother kept the Christmas decorations in. They have been passed on to me. I think we can use an unused fireplace as the spot to install the crib. Maybe this year I can put logs and dry leaves from the garden around it. Every year it looks different.
I have not been able to spend Christmas with my parents for various excellent reasons for many years. We can have a mini one here instead. I even have a pudding with cherries in the middle.
She is on the sofa sleeping, with a duvet and the cat on top of her. A real version of family stuff going on in our own stable/house.
Monday, 10 November 2014
Oh my God! London - 2 - Sunday
Eating my way through my father's sour dough loaf, this time with his own plum and ginger jam.
Tube to Warren Street, more comfortable working on my poem translation on a seat.
Find my mother on her bed, so cut her finger nails and do other beauty tasks.
Dr arrives, a Glaswegian :), full update, so many tests, grabbing this opportunity.
Adventure with a wheelchair, backwards, forwards, lifts, doors, even the shop.
My mother's idea of heaven: cafe facing buses, tube station, PEOPLE, LIFE, LONDON.....
She manages to eat a hard boiled egg without an eggcup.
I go back and forth like a yoyo; plates, coffee cup and a human in a wheelchair,
Eventually we are all at the same table.
Kisses, goodbyes, odd to know I won't be back until next Saturday. Why don't I live near my parents?
On my walk along South Bank I go the the end of a little pier. Smile at a toddler who is trying standing on a metal tying up point for ropes. Then she decides to sit on it. Whole series of discoveries for her and her patient mother in the sunshine.
Disgusting colour of Thames. Will it one day be something healthier? At least the froth that used to be there is gone.
Lean against the wall and sit on the floor of the Turbine Hall, watch the babies and toddlers with their kind parents.
Bit of writing, then pick out nouns from what I have done and write with those, then pick out verbs from that new set of lines.
I get distracted by the women's hairstyles, always hoping for inspiration.
Decide to get some half-processed merino wool to make primary colour hair wraps out of, based on simple, bold colours of the Richard Tuttle installation above my head.
Films, a set of 3, set in a light bulb factory in China, so many flames.
Other one is just grey on black with occasional people, even I give up on that one.
Find 'Zaytoun', a DVD, for my Arabic film club, plus board books for the babies in my life.
Millennium Bridge: I always think of the stranger who once walked at my pace, level with me, whether I sped up or slowed down. It is a long bridge, so after a while I just walked at my own pace while this mysterious man walked along too near me. I deliberately didn't look round, but I saw that he was all in black and perhaps 30ish as he went off down some steps.
Back to the house to see my father, kisses, goodbyes.
See the owner of the Serbian cafe opposite, rush over to share the news about my mother, more kisses, goodbyes.
As I drive along the Embankment in the dark towards the A4/M4 I enjoy the sparkling lights of the new flats on the other bank and the bright tree decorations. Really I just love all the lights at night. It's my city and I love seeing it again each time.
I listen to my music and find myself imagining having a huge row in the middle of Oxford with a complete stranger on the pavement because I have decided to open my car window and share my music with the world. Don't know why this arises. By the time my mind is back in a state of calm I have got to the Hogarth Roundabout. Strange.
Other people drive oddly tonight. Twice I find myself stuck behind a smart car being driven very slowly at 50mph by a male driver on his own. It is 8pm on a Sunday, perhaps they are both drunk and can't decide to stop to clear their heads. This is a new danger.
Find a set of photos of the event I was at yesterday, brings it all back. I am the one holding a candle while holding a bag of books with Arthur Probsthain on the front! And chatting. The photos don't show the fact that I am still damp from being drenched before the performance even started. Many of the performers had worn coats.
Tube to Warren Street, more comfortable working on my poem translation on a seat.
Find my mother on her bed, so cut her finger nails and do other beauty tasks.
Dr arrives, a Glaswegian :), full update, so many tests, grabbing this opportunity.
Adventure with a wheelchair, backwards, forwards, lifts, doors, even the shop.
My mother's idea of heaven: cafe facing buses, tube station, PEOPLE, LIFE, LONDON.....
She manages to eat a hard boiled egg without an eggcup.
I go back and forth like a yoyo; plates, coffee cup and a human in a wheelchair,
Eventually we are all at the same table.
Kisses, goodbyes, odd to know I won't be back until next Saturday. Why don't I live near my parents?
On my walk along South Bank I go the the end of a little pier. Smile at a toddler who is trying standing on a metal tying up point for ropes. Then she decides to sit on it. Whole series of discoveries for her and her patient mother in the sunshine.
Disgusting colour of Thames. Will it one day be something healthier? At least the froth that used to be there is gone.
Lean against the wall and sit on the floor of the Turbine Hall, watch the babies and toddlers with their kind parents.
Bit of writing, then pick out nouns from what I have done and write with those, then pick out verbs from that new set of lines.
I get distracted by the women's hairstyles, always hoping for inspiration.
Decide to get some half-processed merino wool to make primary colour hair wraps out of, based on simple, bold colours of the Richard Tuttle installation above my head.
Films, a set of 3, set in a light bulb factory in China, so many flames.
Other one is just grey on black with occasional people, even I give up on that one.
Find 'Zaytoun', a DVD, for my Arabic film club, plus board books for the babies in my life.
Millennium Bridge: I always think of the stranger who once walked at my pace, level with me, whether I sped up or slowed down. It is a long bridge, so after a while I just walked at my own pace while this mysterious man walked along too near me. I deliberately didn't look round, but I saw that he was all in black and perhaps 30ish as he went off down some steps.
Back to the house to see my father, kisses, goodbyes.
See the owner of the Serbian cafe opposite, rush over to share the news about my mother, more kisses, goodbyes.
As I drive along the Embankment in the dark towards the A4/M4 I enjoy the sparkling lights of the new flats on the other bank and the bright tree decorations. Really I just love all the lights at night. It's my city and I love seeing it again each time.
I listen to my music and find myself imagining having a huge row in the middle of Oxford with a complete stranger on the pavement because I have decided to open my car window and share my music with the world. Don't know why this arises. By the time my mind is back in a state of calm I have got to the Hogarth Roundabout. Strange.
Other people drive oddly tonight. Twice I find myself stuck behind a smart car being driven very slowly at 50mph by a male driver on his own. It is 8pm on a Sunday, perhaps they are both drunk and can't decide to stop to clear their heads. This is a new danger.
Find a set of photos of the event I was at yesterday, brings it all back. I am the one holding a candle while holding a bag of books with Arthur Probsthain on the front! And chatting. The photos don't show the fact that I am still damp from being drenched before the performance even started. Many of the performers had worn coats.
Thursday, 6 November 2014
أحبك - Poem for my mother
والدتي في المستشفى
كنت في لندن
اسمك آن
أنا بعيد عنك
أنا أحبك جدا
غدا في لندن
I need to switch these lines around so they have some sort of pattern. The vowel markings don't show in type, so you have to know that there are lots of kasras, the 'i' sound.
أحبك
هو الليل
والدتي في المستشفى
غدا في لندن
اسمك آن
أنا بعيد عنك
أنا أحبك جدا
Ok, so now there are 2 stanzas, first lines have 2 words each, second and third lines both have 3. Title is addessed to my mother, first stanza is stating facts and second is addressing her again. Neatly, it has her name at the end of the first line of that second stanza. On another laptop I could add a word which looks exactly the same as her name, but which means 'now'. That could go in the same place but on the first stanza. But then it would ruin the 2,3,3 pattern.
There, all done, for now = aan/ann, oh dear, an arabic/english pun. Now to call and see if she is on the table, under the knife.
Friday, 30 May 2014
Ouch my French
I have had a look at the text I sent my mother yesterday. It has two major grammatical/spelling errors. Bless her, my mother didn't text a word about them. She texted back using perfect endings and the feminine where it should be. Ouch and blush. I need to dig out my French dictionary. Texting from a station while waiting needs all the information to be in my head.
A couple of weeks ago I forgot how to spell soleil. It only came back to me when I saw a lorry or some advertisement with it written clearly and boldly. That is my sort of language learning/relearning. Accidental and effective.
Maybe embarrassment is the strongest push to learn things, the emotion shoves the information right into the brain without any effort.
I used to try to chat to my Grandmother in French, but it never seemed right. She was an Anglophile anyway, her heart was here and she was more at home in English.
A couple of weeks ago I forgot how to spell soleil. It only came back to me when I saw a lorry or some advertisement with it written clearly and boldly. That is my sort of language learning/relearning. Accidental and effective.
Maybe embarrassment is the strongest push to learn things, the emotion shoves the information right into the brain without any effort.
I used to try to chat to my Grandmother in French, but it never seemed right. She was an Anglophile anyway, her heart was here and she was more at home in English.
Thursday, 1 May 2014
London - People - Places - Decision
So much:
Friday: Tate Britain, including the Blake room, hundreds of Turners, cardboard and wood in the massive halls, other great things I just love walking around. The Letitia Dean film made at Kodak, just my thing.
My cousins in North London, expecting a first baby and loving their garden.
Saturday: The British Museum, plus many streets I walked along, convinced I knew where it was, I didn't! Mesopotamia, Ancient Arabia, Islamic section, why is it in the basement?? Met a fellow student of Arabic, she is exactly at the same stage as me, but without a class or teacher to continue with. We had a guided tour together. I decided to buy the Arabic guide to the museum, it is surprisingly suited to my level of reading. No translations, just pictures.
My cousins in West London, the flat is full of pictures and feels like being at home. At one point my cousin was on skype with a relative I like in Belgrade. I shall have to learn how to skype before T goes to university.
Sunday: Tate Modern, lots of short films, I leaned against a wall and it fell open, it was a very tall internal door. Space, vast unmitigated space.
Easter Lunch with my brother plus friends of my parents. We even had a chocolate course, my parents like their food, but this is off the scale! It wasn't meant that way, but there were so many tidbits to go with coffee that it deserves a name. My brother had made some chocolate with ginger in it. That went fast.
Before lunch I tried the closest church to us, St Saviour's St George's Square. Their bells used to keep me and my friends company as we talked into the night on my parents' roof garden way back in time. It was so friendly, I had arrived in the middle of the sermon, that I rushed back home to encourage my mother to give it a go. She was game and we made it for the second half. It's a good alternative if going to their favourite isn't possible, St Mary's Bourne Street.
Monday: The Photographers' Gallery, an old haunt from my late teens, only it has moved to another building. This was my first visit there. Many different styles of work, revealing the concerns of the photographers. Syria was represented, huge square photos of squares where executions used to take place at dawn.
My cousin who was the body double for Sophia Loren in a film made in Spain. We talked family stuff for ages and have finally met properly after all these years of being in the same family. It is good to be able to tell her how things really are. We really enjoyed the restaurant her son had recommended.
Decision
Next time I shall just go to new places, but will continue to see family as much as possible.
Friday: Tate Britain, including the Blake room, hundreds of Turners, cardboard and wood in the massive halls, other great things I just love walking around. The Letitia Dean film made at Kodak, just my thing.
My cousins in North London, expecting a first baby and loving their garden.
Saturday: The British Museum, plus many streets I walked along, convinced I knew where it was, I didn't! Mesopotamia, Ancient Arabia, Islamic section, why is it in the basement?? Met a fellow student of Arabic, she is exactly at the same stage as me, but without a class or teacher to continue with. We had a guided tour together. I decided to buy the Arabic guide to the museum, it is surprisingly suited to my level of reading. No translations, just pictures.
My cousins in West London, the flat is full of pictures and feels like being at home. At one point my cousin was on skype with a relative I like in Belgrade. I shall have to learn how to skype before T goes to university.
Sunday: Tate Modern, lots of short films, I leaned against a wall and it fell open, it was a very tall internal door. Space, vast unmitigated space.
Easter Lunch with my brother plus friends of my parents. We even had a chocolate course, my parents like their food, but this is off the scale! It wasn't meant that way, but there were so many tidbits to go with coffee that it deserves a name. My brother had made some chocolate with ginger in it. That went fast.
Before lunch I tried the closest church to us, St Saviour's St George's Square. Their bells used to keep me and my friends company as we talked into the night on my parents' roof garden way back in time. It was so friendly, I had arrived in the middle of the sermon, that I rushed back home to encourage my mother to give it a go. She was game and we made it for the second half. It's a good alternative if going to their favourite isn't possible, St Mary's Bourne Street.
Monday: The Photographers' Gallery, an old haunt from my late teens, only it has moved to another building. This was my first visit there. Many different styles of work, revealing the concerns of the photographers. Syria was represented, huge square photos of squares where executions used to take place at dawn.
My cousin who was the body double for Sophia Loren in a film made in Spain. We talked family stuff for ages and have finally met properly after all these years of being in the same family. It is good to be able to tell her how things really are. We really enjoyed the restaurant her son had recommended.
Decision
Next time I shall just go to new places, but will continue to see family as much as possible.
Monday, 10 March 2014
Doing the same things - 3 line paragraphs
There is a reason for doing the same things. It is because it is slightly different each time. Just walking up and down stairs, opening and shutting the doors into different rooms is about doing it while I can. Every door makes a different sound. Some things only have a meaning later.
Walking around my parents' house waiting for my father to be ready to go somewhere. Really this meant looking at the tiles on the roof garden, thinking how my brother and I used to play there in the hot summers. We'd use the water hose and flood it! We let the pet rat explore there too.
Let's do a series of 3 line paragraphs:
My mother ran out of energy before lunch on Saturday, so we made the trip up the stairs to their bedroom. I had the privilege of taking off her surgical sandal and of putting the fleece blanket right over her. I pulled it up to her chin and wrapped it around her feet as she asked. Sweet moments.
My father is suffering with a horrible cough. He also flaked out in bed instead of having lunch. Even though they have such fancy food normally, they were grateful for half a banana each, bread and home made jam, plus tea. I hope they liked the spinach and garlic soup I made later.
My brother and I had such a laugh. I asked him for advice and told him more than I should have done. No more the wise older sister! We found a tapas bar and shared sardines and wine. The more we get to know each other the more there is to know.
I finally fall asleep properly after dawn. When my mother knocked on the door and tried to wake me up it was like all those times she'd tried to wake me when I was 19 or so. I was so asleep, but could hear her and felt vaguely guilty for not moving. She said later she'd just been able to see my hair!
Even though I have children and have adored the hopeless task of trying to wake them, I can't quite imagine that my mother also feels this. Yet why else would she, who can barely walk up the stairs, go right to the top of the house to find me, just to see my head while I am semi-conscious and motionless?
I tried making a cheese thing out of yoghurt overnight. They were game to try this and scoffed the lot for breakfast, asking me exactly how I'd made it. We tried to make up a name to give it. We put lots of pepper and pink Himalayan salt on it. I wasn't expecting them to be so enthusiastic.
After I said my goodbyes on the doorstep my mother started to go to the cafe across the road, so I wound up walking her over the road. Then I sat at a table in the sun to reserve it for her. Then when she asked, I gave her a big smile, 'Yes, of course I'd like a cappucino with you!!!' So much for leaving.
We have a new family phrase: 'We have got to get there before the Gloria.' My father said this as they finally climbed into the car to go to church. I like being able to reach around and pull the seat belt out for my mother. She slots it in herself, but at least I have helped a bit.
Let's do a series of 3 line paragraphs:
My mother ran out of energy before lunch on Saturday, so we made the trip up the stairs to their bedroom. I had the privilege of taking off her surgical sandal and of putting the fleece blanket right over her. I pulled it up to her chin and wrapped it around her feet as she asked. Sweet moments.
My father is suffering with a horrible cough. He also flaked out in bed instead of having lunch. Even though they have such fancy food normally, they were grateful for half a banana each, bread and home made jam, plus tea. I hope they liked the spinach and garlic soup I made later.
I finally fall asleep properly after dawn. When my mother knocked on the door and tried to wake me up it was like all those times she'd tried to wake me when I was 19 or so. I was so asleep, but could hear her and felt vaguely guilty for not moving. She said later she'd just been able to see my hair!
Even though I have children and have adored the hopeless task of trying to wake them, I can't quite imagine that my mother also feels this. Yet why else would she, who can barely walk up the stairs, go right to the top of the house to find me, just to see my head while I am semi-conscious and motionless?
I tried making a cheese thing out of yoghurt overnight. They were game to try this and scoffed the lot for breakfast, asking me exactly how I'd made it. We tried to make up a name to give it. We put lots of pepper and pink Himalayan salt on it. I wasn't expecting them to be so enthusiastic.
After I said my goodbyes on the doorstep my mother started to go to the cafe across the road, so I wound up walking her over the road. Then I sat at a table in the sun to reserve it for her. Then when she asked, I gave her a big smile, 'Yes, of course I'd like a cappucino with you!!!' So much for leaving.
We have a new family phrase: 'We have got to get there before the Gloria.' My father said this as they finally climbed into the car to go to church. I like being able to reach around and pull the seat belt out for my mother. She slots it in herself, but at least I have helped a bit.
Tuesday, 21 January 2014
Yes, I know you don't *need* me to hold your arm
My parents came to visit over the weekend. We had a walk after lunch, ie just before tea since we'd been talking for a long time at table.
I helped my mother down to the street, but then kept on having my hand tucked under her arm. After a bit she protested that she didn't need help. So then I had to explain that I wanted to be able to snuggle up to her and give her a little friendly nudge from time to time. Then she understood.
When I was first pregnant I asked her if I could sit on her knee. This was so that she could effectively have her first little grandchild on her knee. I don't know that she really appreciated the thought! She played along anyway.
I helped my mother down to the street, but then kept on having my hand tucked under her arm. After a bit she protested that she didn't need help. So then I had to explain that I wanted to be able to snuggle up to her and give her a little friendly nudge from time to time. Then she understood.
When I was first pregnant I asked her if I could sit on her knee. This was so that she could effectively have her first little grandchild on her knee. I don't know that she really appreciated the thought! She played along anyway.
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