Number 53. And Peter Andre.

So here we are again at number 53. Somewhere that you two haven’t been as much as I used to be when I was your age but I guess that’s allowed as you’re one down the line; great-grand children rather than grand children. It’s a funny feeling when I come back here, so much is the same yet it feels very different too.

The kitchen cupboard doors are the same – green fronts with no obvious handles – and I still try to open them the wrong way. The shooting gallery is still filled with photos of the family; 5 children, 7 grand children and 5 great grand children at last count. The fruit bowl is still full but I’ve never seen anyone eat a piece in all my visits.

I instinctively reach up for the chain to flush the toilet when of course it was changed to a handle some ten years ago. When I touch the banister I remember being held over it by my arm and leg as my big Uncle swung me back and forth giving my ‘Flying Lessons’. The house feels small.

The biggest hole of course is that Grandad isn’t here anymore although there are photos of him all around, from handsome soldier to My Grandad with his soap smelling face and oh such soft skin. His hat still hangs in the kitchen after all these years. He didn’t get to meet you and so many of the other children and new joiners to the family – he would’ve loved pottering about the garden with you and teasing you about forever looking at yourselves in mirrors.

There are new things at number 53. A shiny Stannah stair lift runs up the stair case – you can keep your Peppa Pig World – getting strapped into that baby and having your family sing ‘Goodbye, Farewell’ to you as you ascended the staircase has been the highlight of the visit so far.

Nana May sits on her throne in the corner with her feet raised watching, surrounded by us all and I think she looks rather happy. At 90 I know she’s probably feeling a bit fed up most days – she misses her Dave and has seen her siblings all go – but I like to think that you two bring her a twinkle of happiness to her heart. When she high fived you goodnight tonight she was smiling.

I suspect I might need to explain who that young man is on her tray, the one that she balances on her lap when she’s having a bit of lunch or a cup of tea. That’s Peter Andre. She’s got a lot of time for Peter after going to meet him at a personal appearance in a local shopping centre. My resourceful young cousin decided it’d do no harm to take an old bird in a wheelchair with her. And she was right. The poor screaming girls were left wanting as Peter bonded with Nana May, they chatted about kids and life and he waved only to her as he departed up the escalator.

That’s your Nana May. That’s number 53. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

52 week project – Week 7

This week for the first time since seeing ‘Stick Man’ live on stage nearly two years ago, I went to the theatre. A grown up show and everything. My sister, my teenage niece and I drove through to Glasgow and sat in seats on our own in the large auditorium as by the time we booked, we’d only had the choice of sitting all together in the nose bleed seats or separately where we could actually see.

Best known for acting in Scrubs I will now think of Zach Braff as a writer too. His play ‘Other People’ was touching and funny, the production and stage set were slick and sharp. It takes me a while to get into the zone with theatre, I always think I prefer the polished edge of film, but I really did enjoy it.

Imagine that – writing a play. Being paid to write, to write all day long, how lucky would you feel? And that’s just how Mr Braff looked as he took a bow, he looked rather sheepish and overawed. I liked that.

Mugs. No, really. Actual mugs.

My Top 5 list about Mugs – seriously, what’s not to love? A list. About mugs.

Kate runs a weekly ‘Listography’ and I was sucked in to this weeks rather odd topic after some late night chit chat on Twitter. It’s amazing how easily I get distracted.

1. Phoebe’s Cheeky Monkey. Only for hot chocolate and ‘marsh-mellows’. The hot chocolate will always be left, she only asks for the mellows.

 

 

 

 

2. My favourite mug. Mainly for coffee, I love the shape, the birds, the size and the house reminds me of the one George buys Mary in ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’. I love it more than a girl should love a mug.

 

 

 

 

3. The Boy’s mug. A present from me to him whilst we were holidaying in Cornwall last year, it reminds me of happy times with our bestest friends, our children playing together on the beaches, lost sunglasses and frisbees.

 

 

 

4. My Twitter Addict cup – My 2nd favourite mug, only recently knocked off the top spot. Thick, ceramic, warm and reminds me of my ‘old’ blogging days. You too can get one here.

 

 

 

 

5. Fitba’ mug. A nod to his love of football and my Jock-ness. The perfect combination.

Now, off you go and do something entirely more sane.

The second bell

‘Is that the first or the second bell?’

There are two bells?

‘Ooh, I’m not sure, probably the second so lets speed it up a bit. Come on.’

I am the Late Mum. I’m not the only one. There’s a little gang of us silently united by our tardiness, some of them I know and some I just nod to, but we all roll our eyes at each other. As we walk round to the door we have to fight against the tide of On Time Parents coming towards us, my friends who I smile at and shout ‘mornin’ to.

All of the other children have gone in, we miss the early morning competition to see who can be first in line. Even the teachers who open the doors and conduct you all to sing-say ‘Good Morning’ have been replaced by the funny old dude who only appears at 9.01am and whose sole job seems to be to rib the late children. He’s not the janitor, not a teacher, I don’t know what the rest of his job entails.

I don’t mean to be late, on paper we should be on time. But I get distracted. We’ll be on target and then I’ll get all cocky and lulled into a false sense of security and slow it down. All it takes is ten minutes and before I know it we’re going to be late.

‘Quick! Get your gloves on. STOP mucking about. Have you had your vitamin? GET YOUR gloves ON. Come on, out, out, out.’

‘Are we late again, Mum?’

At least four times I have been on time, early even, and it’s thrown everyone. One friend did a double take and you could see the look of panic in her eye as she thought she must be late too. If you see me then you know you’re in trouble. I guess you could say I’m providing a service for everyone else.

But, really, can anyone tell me why there is the need for a first and a second bell? Because for me it just feels like a taunt. Answers on a postcard please.

 

Written as part of Josie’s Writing Workshop – this week the prompt was ‘second’.