Next with Grandma

 When I got up this morning I found the boys and girl downstairs making me breakfast.  They decided to go for the porridge option so it was just the saucepan bubbling away on the hob but the breakfast table had been laid and I was to sit and be served.  "You shouldn't eat on your lap Grandma, its slovenly", said the six year old.   "Yes dear, point taken".   The six year old was colouring and the boys were deciding on how they could run a restaurant from my house.  The mind boggles.  Menu planning was already underway.  This Gordon Ramsey documentary is certainly having an impact on them.  I hope they don't go back to school saying fuck to everything but then maybe they do anyway, I find it difficult to keep up with young people and what is acceptable and what isn't.  I did notice that River, he's 8, said fuck when he nearly chopped his finger in two when chopping kindling yesterday but I let it go as I was in a slight panic myself thinking the very same thing at the time. Fortunately it was only a graze of the skin and no blood to speak of. 

The restaurant, I was told,  is to be in my dining room and will only have three tables.  I told them that pop-up restaurants were all the go when I was an art student and they would literally pop-up everywhere.  While the menu planning went ahead, with squid ink pie obviously included after yesterday, I suggested that Inga, that's the 6 year old, (I don't know whether she was conceived in the Outer Hebrides or something, never been told) design some menu cards with her crayons.  I handed her some of the old Christmas cards that had not yet made the recycling bin.  I noticed she started colouring robins rather than writing Menu so I gave her some menu words to play with from the Guardian easy Saturday recipes where you might just have some capers and eels livers and hay in the cupboard.  Actually I saw that we eat very little offal in this country now unlike France and Italy where intestines from the cow and bollocks from the pigs are still popular and hay is gathered to stuff in the cooking then setting fire to the kitchen,well filling it with smoke.   It is little wonder that our health is so bad over here with our deficiencies.  I suggested to the boys that they put a liver and bacon option on the menu along with cabbage and swede for vegetables.  Both pulled faces at me.  Ugh granny!   River, he's 8 and conceived on a punt on the Cam I assume, said that they didn't eat cabbage or swede and had no idea what offal was and Inga piped up she knew because she had heard daddy say "fuck all".  I said that wasn't the same thing and to shoosh about that as it was not foody.   I suggested they Google offal quickly and then find something on You Tube.  In fact Mrs Beeton was going to be much better so thrust that at them.  Finn said he wanted to be like Gordon Ramsey, we don't seem to be able to get away from him, and I said you wouldn't want to be lumbered with a £20M loan on a restaurant that may run out of customers.  Finn said he would make his restaurant smaller and on the ground, not in the sky, 63 floors up.  I said, um, well that might work but really I would rather he became a pilot or a doctor or something.  Why don't we all draw aeroplanes and pretend we're flying in the garden?  Or play doctor and nurses.   These games no longer seem popular and I was ignored and everybody carried on with what they were doing. 

I left them to the menu planning and Finn was drawing the restaurant, Inga designing menus, River was busy with Mrs Beeton looking up offal and vegetables, and Blade (don't ask) was designing staircases.  I handed him my Piranesi book and told him he could keep it.  It is full of fantasy staircases going nowhere.   I used to love it when I first started drawing and I do still enjoy drawing ladders and stairs myself but I am downsizing so giving my art books away and I told them they could select any they wanted before they left.   They wanted to do it there and then so I let them go up the stairs to the book shelves.   "Can we take any of them?"    "Yes" I replied.  Take the bloody lot I thought, it will help everybody when I'm dead.   "Yes darlings!" "Love you!"

When Thelma came round yesterday and we had a morning sherry I didn't tell her why the children were still here, or rather I told her they were here because mum had decided to stay longer in London.  I know Thelma was only here to find a bit of gossip for the neighbours, I normally only see her once a year.  

I spoke to daughter yesterday and she said she would be back and it was all a bit silly really but she needed a break.  I left it at that and said "of course darling, nothing more will be said about it, just come back when you are ready", seething underneath and wondering where the hell I had gone wrong with her.  Words will be had. 

I told the children mum would be back for them and they wouldn't be skipping school and they said "we told you so" although Blade did ask if mummy and daddy were getting a divorce.  I said "no of course not".   Daddy had facetimed them before bed last night and mummy wasn't mentioned and I kept out of the conversations that were going on but I did notice in the background when I looked over Inga's head a blond, leather clad young lady flash by.  She could of course have been nothing to do with it and merely Daddy was facetiming from someone else's room.  Well, you have to give him the benefit of the doubt and these Russian girls do like to be helpful and Siberia can be cold and lonely. 

The day continued with me supervising nothing much at all as they four seemed to be able to look after themselves and Thomas and White Bib got on with sleeping and Inga and Blade remembered I said they had to pretend they were cats when they were tired and sleep like them.  In fact this seemed to go down a treat and I only had to call out "sleep time" and "cats" and they curled up next to Thomas.  As long as Thomas wasn't being made to be a pretend Mongoose he was happy.   Afternoon storytime consisted of tales from Siberia (no leather clad girls) and grandma's travels and then River and Finn going outside and pretending my garage was a den.  I couldn't believe my luck....

To be continued...

 

More with Grandma

 The grandchildren are up before me and I find the older two are getting the woodburner cleaned and the ashes taken out.  I quickly explain to them that the ashes may be hot and they are to be careful and once outside not to put the ashes in the plastic bin because it will melt holes in it.  I speak from experience. The children tell me that they know all about this (yawn) because daddy taught them.  They said mummy is always in bed and doesn't get up very early so daddy teaches them things. 

 Anyway, the woodburner is looking better than it has for months and now they are laying it ready for later.  They know how to do this.  The two middle ones have gone out to fill the woodbasket and bring in kindling.  I told them at their age I was chopping kindling and I would give them a lesson.  I took the chopper that I still have from those days and we set to very carefully selecting the wood from off-cuts I have  been given by the furniture maker and I give them the first lesson which is to find the direction of the grain of the wood.   There was some shouting and eureka moments when this was established and they could both do it.  I explained you are then going to split the wood down that grain.  They see that chopping kindling is actually splitting the wood not cutting.   Once the grain direction has been established we take the chopper and enter with a firm first chop and then lift the whole thing off the tree stump (used as the support table) and then strike up and down on the stump until the first strip is cut.  And then carry on until the piece of wood is split into kindling.   

I leave them doing this and go in and find the older boy is looking at the squid and octopus with the fridge door wide open.  I suggest he closes the door to keep the cold in.  The youngest is playing with the cats.  Thomas is finding it tiresome and his noises suggest to me he is not really enjoying it.  White Bib is looking on.   Both cats have one eye on the squid.  I suggest that I will cook it for tea.   

Later all four are indoors and I explain that mum is not coming back for a few days so they are lumbered with me.  There is a stunned silence which I am not sure whether it is good or bad so I continue quickly that we will continue as we have been and keep busy.  Then starts a lot of questions about what is mum doing and when will she back and I explain that she has been delayed by an advisory role (a euphemism  if ever I heard one and I struggle to keep a serious face on) she is playing in Dubai to a financial consultant but she is likely to meet lots of famous footballers and will no doubt bring back presents for them all. This cheers them and lots of whoops and squeals and I feel I have diverted them enough to get us through the weekend at least.   Now daughter all you need to do is get back here quick.  I decide to message her when the children are occupied. 

Next we plan the squid ink meal which the two older boys have said they will prepare and go off to find You Tube advice and my planning help is not needed except they may need more ingredients I am told.  I hope not as I don't want to go out.  I said we will have to make do with what granny has in the kitchen.  I pointed them in the direction of Mrs Beeton and last I saw they were going through the fish pages looking for squid which probably wasn't there.  You Tube is their preferred choice and they say they want to use their phone to make a Tik Tok film while they are cooking.  I am not sure if this is allowed by mum because the phone is only for contacting her but I am told by Finn that they do Tik Tok all the time.   I nonchalantly ask Finn if he has contacted his mother or heard from her and he replies that she has probably "gone off with a man again" and is "busy" and told me in a very grown up way that I was not to worry and the story about the Dubai finance stuff was probably all lies.  I raised my eyebrows and asked what he meant.  He said "oh mum is always disappearing while dad is away.  She thinks nobody knows".  He added "don't worry grandma, she'll be back".   

The two younger ones want to run around the house so I let them do this on the condition that they leave Thomas alone and when they are exhausted they must pretend to be cats and sleep like he does.  They decide this is ok and disappear upstairs and I hear them opening the wardrobe.  I can't be bothered to interfere and so leave them to it.  Anything for peace.  

All seems quiet and I have satisfactorily achieved a quiet morning for grandma.  

Next I text daughter to find out what exactly is going on.

I see Thelma is at the door.  It is time for another glass of sherry.   Daughter can wait.  

More with the grandchildren

 The next morning my daughter rang to say she wouldn't be coming back and she would be leaving me with the four children.  She was leaving her husband and disappearing for good.  I was a bit taken a back and suggested that this was all a bit sudden but she said she had met a new man in the French pub in Soho  and would be going to live in Dubai where he runs restaurants and casinos and has a wealth advisory business for footballers.  She would contact her husband via a solicitor but in the meantime I had to take the children.    I said I would contact the Russian embassy and ask to be put through to the Siberian British consulate and get him home.  She said there is no such thing so don't bother. 

I asked her to send me a list of their schools at least as I had no idea where they go and what is required of me.  The youngest at the Forest School would mean the she would be with me for three days per week.  I was not pleased and in fact I was livid. 

First things first, I told the children to go back to their hobbies whatever they were doing and I would go to the fishmongers to get some squid (this was their idea that next time they wanted squid with squid ink -  my fault, I told them a story of a squid ink meal in Venice).  The rest of the problems can be dealt with over time and no doubt their flightly mother will see sense and return for them. 

I jumped in the car and left the 10 year old in charge.   I also went to the bakers for fresh bread before the fishmongers.  I purchased squid and octopus and more lemons.  Priorities priorities I thought. 

I returned to find a police car outside, a neighbour had called the police when she found four children in my house when she came round with the Parish magazine as well as a trail of blood in the kitchen (I had dressed a pheasant before going out and it must have dripped) and children with Moroccan rugs and cutains wrapped around themselves playing my old school recorder and saying they were using a mongoose (Thomas the cat) to look for snakes and no sign of me.  (Thomas was meowing loudly and his tail was swishing so it was assumed a snake had been found (erroneously)).  I explained to Thomas and asked him to bear with it. Please.   His tail continued to swish from side to side. The police officer meanwhile looked on.   I explained to the officer that it was a game of hide and seek we had played the night before pretending we were in Marrakesh and it was all harmless fun.  Meanwhile he had his notebook out and wanted to know how long the children had been left for.  I showed him the squid and the octopus and explained we were having these for lunch and I had been gone for 20 minutes.  Under the circumstances he let me off when Finn, the 10 year old, explained that he was quite capable of being in charge and had my phone number and there was nothing to worry about and said "please don't lock grandma up".  The policeman gave me a warning and went off.  I took the Parish Magazine off Thelma from next door and invited her in for a sherry.    The children returned to Thomas, the mongoose, to look for more snakes.  

To be continued. 

An Everyday Story of Half-Term

For anybody reading for the first time, this is a bit of creative writing!   I do not have any children or grandchildren.

Yesterday my four grandchildren came over for the day.  I was to entertain while their mother went to London for a school reunion.

The age range is 4 to 10 and they are all very good children.  They bought with them their own books and colouring sets for the day and the 8 and 10 year olds had a science thingy and a chemistry set.  The science thing consisted of bricks, a set square and a drawing box, or geometry set, and an exercise book which by the end of the morning was well filled with pages of architectural drawings rather than science.  The two older children get on very well and didn't argue  and were engaged in individual private study.  I asked what they were doing and one was designing a staircase and one was drawing restaurants.  He said he had been watching Gordon Ramsey's new roof restaurant and wanted to do something for him.  I was asked for jars of water and it seemed like some Archimedes Principle tests were going on in the breakfast room but I left them to it as they were well able to entertain themselves.   All four of the children are at boarding schools and the youngest, at 4, has just gone off to a Forest School where she sleeps four nights a week and comes back home on a Thursday night, returning on Sunday afternoon.  I am all for outdoor living and learning. My brothers all went to schools like this.

The 4 and 6 year olds preferred painting at the table and had paint boxes, brushes and more jars of water from Grandma.  I didn't have to do much as they all occupied themselves.   There were no gadgets or tablets as such and no phones.  All are at schools where these are not allowed.  The noise level was not deafening and the concentration was palpable in the silence.  

Lunch consisted of cold sausage sandwiches, cut like postage stamps for the two smaller children, and proper sandwiches for the two older ones.  We sat round the table with a water jug and glasses for drinks.  I do not do fizzy drinks and nobody asked for one so hopefully at home they have the same.   The conversation was around the sausages and I was asked where I had bought them.  I explained about the local butcher and then we got on to the journey of the piglets from the farm to the butcher via the lorry to the slaughterhouse.  I explained that grandma grew up on a farm where pigs were raised and supplied to the local butcher in the nearby town.  They appeared to find this of interest so I showed them some of the old photos of the farm that I had been looking through the other day.  There were lots of questions.

After lunch the three older ones went outside to play in the garden and remained within the area and collected wood for me for the fire which was a task I gave them to do.  There was wood from a fallen tree that had been sawn up by a neighbour two years ago and that needed to be brought down to the house.  They obliged without complaint.   The youngest one stayed indoors with me and had a rest.  

As my daughter was in London overnight all four slept here.  That meant I had to do tea as well so I fried up some white bait and buttered a pile of bread and put it in the centre of the table for them to help themselves.  There was also some scampi.   The white bait was popular and we all examined the fishes and helped with the frying.  We had fun with lemons and squeezing them over the white bait.  It is surprising how such simple things keep children amused.   That went down well and I had them all in bed and washed by 7.30 pm.  

They were in two rooms and covered in duvets with make-do covers made up of Moroccan throw-overs like the one making the door curtain that I mentioned at the weekend.  I told stories of Morocco and the Sahara desert and food in the open air in the Jemaa el Fna square in Marrakech and sheeps eyes and heads with lots of ughs and giggles coming from the children.  I told them of the snake charmers and the drummers that never stop and the donkeys and mules and the green tea and the carpet sellers.  They soon fell asleep happy and exhausted and I went downstairs and watched the Figure Skating. 

Next morning they all got up early and breakfast was an orderly regiment of porridge from the big pot I had made on the stove.  

Mum comes to fetch them at 11 am.  In the meantime they are playing around in the garden as the sun is shining and I am reading yesterday's papers. 

Their father is currently working in Siberia advising on oil drilling operations in the eastern oilfields.