Ups and downs

I was dusting this photo yesterday and thinking about the people in it. The girl on the right is my Granny – Mum’s mum - the young man is her brother and the lady on the left is her Auntie Jessie. Granny’s mother died of TB when Granny was five, and her little sister also had TB from a baby and died at fourteen. When Granny's mother died, Auntie Jessie, her father’s sister, left her home in Edinburgh and went through to Glasgow to look after the three children and keep house for her brother. Yesterday I looked up how old Auntie Jessie was when she did this, and it turns out that she was 32. I had always vaguely thought that she was older. When Granny was 17, her father remarried and Auntie Jessie was redundant – but I suppose she was still only 44 – not much older than Daughter 1. And she’d brought up three bereaved children and nursed one of them when she was dying. She must have had some backbone.

I do remember meeting Auntie Jessie but I only thought of her as an ancient person – which indeed she was. She died in 1957 at the age of 89, when I was 7. I wish now I knew what happened to her when she came back to Edinburgh but I’ve no idea and there’s no one to ask. Sadly, Granny’s brother was gassed during WW1 and died in 1920 at the age of 27.

Well, that was a cheery story, wasn’t it? My Granny, however, lived till she was 85 in reasonable health and was a very very lovely person – totally grateful for everything she had, and very content with her lot (even though she was married to my rather grumpy grandfather). 

Nothing particular is happening here except a bit of sewing of quilts for the bunk beds in the study. Yesterday, Big Grandson went with his father and Mr L on a tram outing - to the airport on a tram, back into the centre of town and then back here on a bus. As you can see from his cheerful expression, he considers this a satisfactory use of his time. 

Meanwhile Big Granddaughter and I did some abstract painting - at her request - so much easier than trying for realism.

and some jumping. Well, she did. She likes leaping around, though I don't think she'll ever make the Olympics. 

Poor little Littlest Granddaughter in London has been unwell all week. It makes me so sad that I can't easily pop down to help! However, she was better today and said she wanted to go to a party. There was no party to go to, but Daughter 2 fished out a parcel left over from pass-the-parcel at Littlest's own party in October, and they played that. Guess who won? 

Then they made party decorations for Chinese New Year. 

Our microwave died on Thursday - it failed to heat what I'd put in it but instead made a nasty burning smell. Well, I cannot count the number of times since then that I’ve gone confidently towards it with something I was planning to heat up. And it’s still only Saturday! Talk about a creature of habit. I’ve thought at different times that I would heat up soup, plates, a cool cup of coffee - etc. Tonight I decided to make an apple pudding that I’ve made for nearly 50 years The last time I did it, I tried pre-cooking the apples in the microwave instead of in a saucepan, which was quicker and involved less washing up. You’d think it would have taken me less than 50 years to come up with this, but no. Making this pudding is a bit of a fiddle because you separate the eggs and beat the whites in a different bowl, but tonight I thought, well, it won’t be that much bother because I’ll do the apples in the microwave again. Hmm. Then I tried to soften the butter that you have to cream with sugar and almonds – in the microwave. I really never realised that I used it so much.

My friend can now clench and unclench her previously-useless left hand, which is such good news. When she was first in hospital, I wrote her a letter every second day (an actual, paper one, because she finds manipulating her phone quite difficult). It turns out that she really likes getting my letters and said she wished I could write to her twice a day! This might be a bit much, but I'm now writing every day. I deliver them to her house and her husband leaves them as he leaves after a visit, so that she can read them when he's gone. I don't think it's the brilliance and wit of my actual letters that she likes so much as just knowing that she's not forgotten. I like writing and it's nice to think that I can do something to cheer her up a bit. It was a month yesterday that she had her stroke and it probably seems much longer to her. She and her husband are keen walkers and last year walked 1,200 miles! I doubt if we managed half that. It must be so frustrating to be stuck in a hospital bed. 

Ah, the ups and downs of life.