Sampler

 

Sampler

Rather than show the sampler, I thought I'd show the young adult relatives of the baby. This was the occasion of Hailey's parents' wedding, long before she and her elder sister put in an appearance. These are the six oldest grandchildren. 

CLockwise from top left: Callum, the happy bridegroom, now 28, Elliot, 27, Kiri, 30, Marnie, 32, Eve, 24, and Louis, 22.

I’m just finishing a cross-stitch sampler I started months ago to mark the birth of the youngest member of the family, Hailey, who was born in March. I started one, but it looked all wrong, so I abandoned it and began another. It doesn’t look too dreadful, and as I suspect it will be received with thanks and then ‘put away’ I’m not too bothered.

All I had left to stitch was the date. I’d counted all the squares and was just reaching the end when I realised I’d miscalculated and hadn’t centred it correctly. I couldn’t face unpicking it, so decided to improvise and add some flowers in the unplanned spaces.

Then I’ll wash it, mount it, and frame it. It’s the last birth sampler I’ll make. The next clutch of grandchildren doesn’t look ready to have babies yet, and cross-stitch isn’t quite their style anyway.

I enjoy cross-stitch, but I haven’t my mother’s skill with a needle, or her patience. Nobody will be bidding for my work in centuries to come!

Welcome to the world!

Welcome to the world!

Another member of the family made her entrance on Friday.

Hailey Evelyn, little sister to two-year-old Melia, was born on 21^st March. She had made a few attempts to become independent of her mummy for several weeks, but was persuaded to stay in situ for a little longer.

She is now at home with the rest of her family, still unfurling like a leaf and completely helpless.

 She is the youngest of six grandchildren to our eldest daughter, and thus our sixth great-grandchild.

 

Another birthday

It was Barry’s birthday on Monday and the day passed quietly. In the main, we have gone beyond the stage of buying gifts for each other. It is almost impossible to find something he hasn’t already got, and if he hasn’t got it, he has no interest in acquiring it.

Occasionally, I give him a bottle of fine brandy or port, but he rarely drinks, so the bottles last for a long time. I can find books to interest him, the one pictured here being an example. It is a book to dip into, I think, and we shall both enjoy it.

Otherwise, we each decide if there’s something we would like, we discuss it, it is agreed, and we buy it. It is not the most exciting way to bestow gifts, but it pleases us. Our joy in giving is mainly confined to seeking out presents for the youngest members of our family. There are currently seven under twelve years of age, with a new one expected in March.

Children and grandchildren called and sent messages to wish him a happy birthday. Charlie and Jack sang to him, which was sweet, and Gillian also serenaded him.

He had decided that a(nother) cordless electric screwdriver was something he would really like, and after much research - there’s always detailed research! – he selected one that satisfied his exacting requirements. Cordless electric secateurs were also on his wish list. They have arrived and have already been put to good use and declared excellent, relieving the hands of much hard work. An extension pole arrived today so that the many trees and bushes we have rapturously planted in the decades we have lived here can now be pruned and shaped and otherwise made good.

All these things are rechargeable!

I think the thing that pleased him most, though, was the appointment that was made, of which more anon.

                        Look at those lovely noses! I love dogs' noses.

A Life full of Animals - the final part

 

A Life full of Animals – the final part

I cannot leave this theme without paying tribute to the other animals in my life, the two-legged variety. I have chosen to use photographs of them as little beings, when they begin to resemble human beings, not the very smallest, newborn ones, when only the most besotted and closely-related  can truly say, 'Oh, how beautiful' and sound as though they mean it!

Naturally, my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were stunning from the moment they were born, but they were the exception.

First. always and forever, is my husband. Here he is, at three years old, in India, where he lived for three years, He came back to the UK on a troop ship when he was six, better able to converse in Urdu than English. 

I debated whether I should include a photograph of myself, but I am another animal in my life. As the youngest of three, the novelty had rather worn off for my parents, so there aren't many snaps of me. However, here I am at the Festival of Britain in 1951, aged seven. I'm the one sitting on the well-fed pony.

Gillian appears next. A blue-eyed, corn-gold blonde, after the Cooke fashion, she looked nothing like me, a hazel-brown-eyed brunette, and for a while I wondered if I had actually had anything to do with her as everybody remarked on how much she looked like Barry. She grew up to be a very pretty girl, but not particularly tall (the Cooke influence) and is now a loving mother to two blonde blue-eyed daughters and a brown-haired blue-eyed son, and a grandmother to 4, soon to be 5, all with blue eyes and blonde hair.

 

                                                            Gardening

So delighted were we with Gillian that we embarked on a second child and Gareth was born twenty months later. Some people marvelled that a brown-eyed boy should be born to a blue-eyed father. Once again, where was I in the equation? Gareth grew into a handsome strong young man of 6’3” (the Mayne genes asserting themselves here) and is now a devoted father to three, two sons taller than him and a beautiful daughter, taller than her mother. All of them have wonderful deep brown eyes, and very dark brown hair.

 

                                                            Purposeful

Third in line came Susannah, a striking green-eyed ash blonde. Like her brother, she grew tall and is a loving mother to a blue-eyed dark blond boy.

 
Dreaming

After a nine-year delay, when we had forgotten what caused it, Bethan was born, a quietly beautiful brown-eyed blonde. She has two dark-eyed brown-haired sons.

 

                                                           Hobby horse

Then we move onto the second generation. 

Marnie, Gillian’s eldest

                                                          Birthday cake  

Her sister, Shakira (Kiri)

                                                        In the garden

Their brother, Callum

 
On holiday

Elliot, Gareth’s eldest child

 
Full of mischief

His sister, Eve

                                                            Curious

Their brother, Louis

                                       
                                                            At the helm

Susannah’s son, Frankie

                                                             Reading

Bethan’s elder son, Charlie

 
On the'phone

His younger brother, Jack 

A life on the ocean wave

Then comes the beginning of the third generation.

 Isla, Marnie’s elder child

                                                          Aye,aye, Cap'n

Fergus, her younger brother

                                                        Steering a course

Then there are  Shakira’s daughter and son, Ariella and Luca, but we have no individual photographs of them.

Finally, for the moment, there is Callum's daughter, Melia, still incubating and due to join the world in March . . .  and there will be others in the future, no doubt. 

What sort of world will these little people grow up into? Each generation faces problems which seem insurmountable but thus far, we have overcome them or adapted to them. Perhaps there is a kernel of truth in the saw, 'Where there's life there's hope.'

I see the formatting has gone awry in parts. It's a good thing I'm not possessed of the demons that demand perfection.

What happened?

 

What happened?

When people ask what we’ve been doing, I always say, ‘Nothing’, or ‘Not much’, because what has been happening in our lives may seem inconsequential, compared to what other folk have been up to. Time passes and it’s not filled with exciting trips abroad or fabulous meals in smart restaurants or trips to the theatre. Nonetheless, our time is fully occupied.

Our oldest grandson was married in August 2021. It was a beautiful day with perfect weather and it was so good to meet all our family after such long times apart.  Our grandson and his wife are expecting their first child, a daughter, in March next year.

In March 2021, Ariella was born to our second granddaughter and in August 2022 her parents were married before their son was born in October. We were unable to attend as by then it was impossible to leave Gus because he fretted so much if he was left alone, despite having canine and feline company. He needed his own humans – no-one else would do. 

In 2021, we had a dog-sitter to look after the dogs (and cats) but a year later Gus was thoroughly dependent on us. He missed his sister, as Jenna had died in November 2021, at the grand age of 16, quite remarkable for a Labrador.

Jenna and Gus when young

 Jenna in old age

In April 2022, Bertie required extensive dental surgery and jaw reconstruction. He recovered well, but by May, a month or so after his operation, he began to be fussy about his food. Bertie was unusual, in that he was never greatly interested in food, and Labradors are renowned dustbins. Nevertheless, he had always eaten whatever was placed in front of him, but quite suddenly he turned his nose up at his rations. Veterinary investigations showed that he was very ill and not likely to linger long. He still looked the handsome dog he had always been, was keen to go out for walks, remained the perfect gentleman he had been since puppyhood, but he was losing condition rapidly, despite regular B12 vitamin injections and appetite stimulants. We could have stocked a pet food shop with the different brands of dog and cat food we bought to try and encourage him to eat. We bought two or three chickens a week and cooked them in the pressure cooker.

 

Bertie in his prime

Most things worked for a while but eventually he was eating only minute portions and plain yoghourt. Our beautiful boy was fading away and we braced ourselves for his departure and then, shockingly, in August, Gus died. 

Gus 

Gus was a big, strong dog, with the heart of a lion and the gentle temperament of a capybara, always inclined to avoid trouble. He had the sweetest smile and the most beautifully shaped front paws. He had developed arthritis in recent years, which was being well managed, and always enjoyed his walks. One night, he was crying and I had to get up to him several times, to soothe and comfort him. (Our dogs have always slept upstairs with us, often on the bed.)The next morning, after he had taken the morning air, he was suddenly unable to stand and I could see the pain and fear in his eyes. That was his last day with us. He was nearly thirteen.

Those of you who have read earlier posts may recall that we called him Augustus Lazarus Cooke, because as a newborn pup he had to be encouraged to breathe. Just at the point his breeder was about to abandon her efforts, he took a breath and never looked back. He remained very puppy-like in his ways.

We had expected Bertie to be the first to leave but he clung on until one day he was no longer coming to lay his head on my lap to have his ears stroked and was not interested in going for a walk. So that day, in October, Bertie departed this life. He was eleven.

Roxy with Bertie

Now, abruptly, we were reduced to one dog. Roxy is seven years old and has never known life without another dog.

It is clear that she is missing her companions and although she enjoys the company of our daughter’s working cocker spaniel, Arthur is not a Labrador, and more importantly, he doesn’t live with us.

Arthur 

Roxy and Arthur with Barry

Every time she goes out she gravitates towards other Labradors. There’s only one remedy . . .  

What happened next?

‘Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.’ Agnes Sligh Turnbull.

Talking, again

Talking to myself, again . . .

I have spent large chunks of time with small and larger children, my own and my own’s own and my own’s owns’ own. A constant barrage of ‘Why?’ and ‘No’ from earliest toddlerdom is followed by years of ‘How do you spell . . . ?’ and ‘What does . . . mean?’ and Where’s . . . ?’ interspersed with my homilies on subjects ranging from the inadvisability of wearing four-inch heels and bare legs in the middle of a cold snap to the wisdom or otherwise of sailing in a Force 9 gale.

There have always been animals around as well, mingling with children of various ages and sizes so of course they must be included in conversations. I reassure the birds as I set out their food and ask the fish if all is well in their watery world. There used to be frogs but they have disappeared, possibly having fallen prey to the rats, which in turn fell prey to Barry’s air rifle and, latterly, the cats. However, we still have newts, though we don’t often see them. The plants and trees are given encouragement and I marvel at the bees and congratulate them on their pollen-collecting skills. I even talk to spiders to ask them to please keep their distance. The dogs and cats are always with us and both of us talk to them all the time, probably more than we talk to each other.

There is little wonder then that I talk all the time.

Our children are grown and flown and when they visit everyone talks at once and no-one listens. The dogs and cats listen intently until they have been fed, watered or exercised, then they sleep. I know Barry hears me but often doesn’t listen (or register) for he inhabits another planet entirely so usually my words fall on deaf ears, or at least ears that are selectively deaf.

I can never understand people who say, ‘I didn’t know I’d lost my voice because I hadn’t seen anyone to talk to.’ I would know instantly and then ask myself why I was whispering.

Sadly, I don’t talk now, so much as mutter, as I complain about whatever or whoever has upset me. I am becoming – am already – a GOW. When did the muttering take over from the talking? I can’t put a precise date on it though it may have coincided with Barry retiring from work and spending more time at home. He always has at least three projects on the go at any one time and each activity requires a different set of tools/instruments which must be left out, ‘So I know where they are for the next time I need them.’ The ‘next time’ may be some days, or even weeks, away and meantime the stuff remains in place to gather dust and join the animals in the obstacle course that is ever-present, ever-shifting in my home.

July 21st - Wedding Day

July 21^st – Wedding Day

Detail from Bethan's dress 

After what seemed like months of endless rain Bethan and Robert’s wedding day dawned bright, warm and sunny. It was a long, busy day but such a joyous occasion. The ceremony was simple and moving and the affection for Bethan and Robert was expressed warmly and vociferously.

They had engaged a photographer to take formal and informal shots of the day. Consequently, none of us took any photos of the bride and groom – something of an oversight, I think! I hope that others took some. 

The bride and her maids . . .
The one I’ve posted here shows Bethan with her bridesmaids. I think one of the bridesmaids’ boyfriends took it.

 I don't know who took this photo! 

Our grandchildren, Marnie's boyfriend, Dean, and David Walliams

After the official photographer had left Barry took some photos.

Some danced . . .

. . . others watched

A small marquee in the grounds made a pleasant lounging area  away from the disco beat 

Unfortunately, Bethan wasn’t feeling at all well on the day, though no-one would have realised it as she smiled and mingled and looked radiant. She didn’t eat anything and managed the first dance but then went to bed. 

Happiness!

She came down for breakfast the next morning but again couldn’t eat anything. Fortunately, she was feeling better and able to eat again by the time they caught their flight to Santorini in the early hours of Monday.

Barry and I are rarely ill but neither of us was very well, either, and the day passed in something of a blur. We’re all on the mend nowJ

Notwithstanding, it was a lovely day and it was a joy to celebrate it with Bethan and Robert and their friends. It was a delight to have all our family together, too, and our grandchildren had a wonderful day, first as junior ushers and bridesmaids, and then as cousins having a good time with their Norfolk cousins.

I was tagged again

I was tagged again by mybabyjohn/Deloresfrom ‘The feathered nest.’ The format was similar so I think this game has been going on in the blogosphere for some time. Again, my apologies for the delay in responding – I have been busy.

However, the questions are differentJ and relate to the summer activity of going on a picnic.

1.     Will you make the food yourself or get take out? We’ll take our own food.

2.    Will you use paper plates or pack real plates? Plates???

3.    Country or city park? Definitely the country.

4.    Invite some friends to come along or not? We might go with family or else on our own.

5.    Use a bug spray or a screened dining tent? Those who need it will use spray.

6.    Bring a ball and bat? We shall take the Kong for the dogs.

7.    Pack the kids bikes? If the grandchildren are coming we might take bikes.

8.    Laze around the picnic site for the day or have an activity planned? You can’t laze around with dogs and grandchildren . . . There will be walking and playing with dogs and spotting birds and insects and identifying wild flowers and taking photographs.

9.    Hope to find a picnic table or bring your own folding table? The ground is the best table there is.

10.  Decide at the last minute to just go to a restaurant? Never. Not many restaurants will accommodate four dogs.

11.  Throw up your hands in defeat and stay home for a picnic on the deck? That          is entirely possible but not nearly as much fun.

Again, I throw this open to anyone who  wishes to participate. Lazy, me??

Giving thanks challenge

Well, it's proving to be more of a challenge than I can meet! It's not that I have few blessings, far from it, more that the day doesn't stretch far enough.
So today, this evening in fact, I'm thankful that I can babysit for my son and daughter-in-law's children now that they're back from NYC. I'm happy that we shall see more of them and that they will see more of their cousins from both their mother's and father's families.
I must be sure that I am truly thankful and don't seem smug.
To see others' blessings please click here and thank Leah for hosting this challenge.

ABC Wednesday Round 5 J is for Janice

J is for Janice (that's me!) . . . . . . and Jenna (that's her!)

J is for Jamboree, a boisterous frolic, a spree in which some of the following might be involved . . . John Smith's . . .

. . . and Jacob's Creek . . .

. . . and jam which Bonne Maman calls conserve but I've cunningly turned the jar to conceal the word . . .
. . . and jelly which I hadn't made for years until recently when one of my grandchildren, a junior in the tribe, made some one day at our house and reawakened my interest . . .

. . . and jelly babies which another junior tribe member gave me! Are you jealous of all the goodies here? Some of the images are blurry and out of focus - can you wonder with all that booze and sugar?

Thank you to Mrs Nesbitt for this jolly, jaunty meme.

Click here to see other Js from around the world.