Now you know how often I’ve excused the lack of newsworthy goings on here in the lane near the Street, in Catfield, well this year we’ve had enough to dish up our own soap. January’s dish, however, contained not mild soft soap, but bitter herbs in sour wine- hyssop, rue and vin aigre. Valerie’s sister, Christine, died of heart failure, age 56. Husband, John having died some 15 years ago, and single parenting being a hard job at best (though no sons could have made it more rewarding than Simon and David) Christine was eagerly anticipating one of the perks- seeing her second son happily married, the wedding being only weeks away. David and Heidi bravely and wisely stuck to their time table, and in the event, the day was all that anyone could have wished. Valerie had always been special to the two boys, so they were very comfortable leaning on us both through these events, forming a new closeness which remains. In fact, it now seems we have not two children, but six- Simon and Dianne, and David and Heidi being the new, older ones, so to speak, and we find it all very enjoyable.
ow, fast forward to the summer- Miriam still swimchro-ing (sorry- synchronised swimming), circus out of the frame- I said, didn’t I? The school got embarrassed at her scooping every available achievement award, so they decided to take her out of the system (give the others a chance) and create for her a special, one-off, clever clogs and all-round Good Egg award, with a £20 book token pendant.
ohn’s A-level grades, though respectable, were not what Nottingham required, so he shopped around and quickly sorted a place on the same course (Communications and Electronic Engineering) at Nottingham Trent, where he is very happy, working well, and enjoying it hugely.
eanstwhile, down at Ludham Bridge, n the smallest art gallery in the world, I was enjoying a quiet but successful season. It has been a quiet season for everyone, but in my case, it was the time-wasters who stayed away. I’ve broken all previous records.
alerie made life exciting for us all again, by developments at school. Because it is such a perfect little village school, the head teacher, Maureen, has been seconded onto a flying squad, to spread the good news of how it is done, for the whole of the current school year. So the other full time teacher is acting head, Valerie has taken her vacant slot, and they’ve drafted in a reliable crony to fill Valerie’s old trap three. Now you will appreciate that this has caused Valerie’s earnings to go ballistic, thus placing great strain on our wealth disposal programme, but I’m pleased to say that Valerie and the offspring soon got the problem under control. As for me, whenever I want to go into the grand metrolops for a morning, I have only to ask for the bus fare and it’s there.
y real share of this excitement lay in the fact that with Valerie out all day, I have to have Phoebe at the studio. So we have to be taken- at 8 a.m. so that Valerie can get back to school for 8.15 ready for the kiddywinks to arrive at 9.00. Now I don’t open until 9.30, so Phoebe and I have plenty of time for her morning walk along the river. Hands up how many start their day’s work with a walk along a river bank? Good ‘ere, innit?
hen I closed a week early so that at half term, I could Join Miriam and Valerie on their trip to Simon and Dianne’s for the Great North Run. John, who normally participates, didn’t think it wise to absent himself from university so early, so it was just Miriam in the junior run, and Simon and David in the senior run- 55 thousand runners! But next year Miriam and Heidi (I didn’t say she’s a P.E. teacher) are going in the main event. The run takes place in Newcastle, and Simon lives 10 miles north, in Morpeth. We had gone for the whole week, so it was a proper holiday. Diane’s parents had a day off to take us on a guided tour of old Newcastle- castle and everything. We saw a factory where John West used to import tinned salmon from anywhere in the world, and paid 30-odd women to rip off the foreign labels, and stick on his own. To me, that is an absolute gem! We even did some Christmas shopping.
hen when we came home, I went into an intensive painting programme, for an exhibition here, at home, next weekend, but I have to write this now, because I won’t cope if I wait for the results. I have every confidence in a happy outcome- with record sales already, just pushed through the roof on collection of a few commissions from satisfied customers. I’m already happy as a newt.
es, next week we definitely move into the fast lane, with the school nativity on Friday (wouldn’t miss it for a gold clock; Miriam’s asked for a school note for a bad leg so she can come),then on Saturday Miriam’s birthday bash- a sleep-over for the Brody Set, in our lounge- it will look like the Green Room in a Paris fashion house, then her actual birthday on Monday. Then the Christmas decorations, leaving a couple of days for last minute baking, before folk arrive on Saturday.
hen we were first married, Valerie and I decided that we would always spend Christmas at home, partly to facilitate parents. Christine and John, with two boys, obviously did the same, so we never got to spend Christmas with them. This year, that is being put right. All six of our children will be with us for Christmas, plus Grandpa, so our catering programme is in overdrive. I recently made puddings, with a four pint model for this year. I could do with a steel smelters’ crucible hooks to handle it. I made two cakes; Miriam thought they looked a bit meagre, so she made three more, and there’s another to come home from school.
e are all looking forward to Christmas as much as we ever have, and it will be a real family Christmas, (I’ll be as good a Christmas uncle as any written by Dylan Thomas) a new, different family, and complete because I’m sure there will be two more contented shades shuffling and settling into the yew garlands around the hearth.
When we are all hull down, with a last timblespoon of ‘Old Crusty’, and the odd nut or candied fruit, they will begin again their sacred ritual of silent songs and well worn stories of ‘remember when’ and ‘I’ll never forget’, and the old strength of love and warmth will crackle and spark and splutter off them to fill the inglenook like tinselled smoke, and they will be at our shoulders as always, breathing the essence of all the Christmases we ever knew into every sip taken, every smile exchanged.
From all the family at Barneybees
Love and best wishes for a very merry Christmas.