Day 2 Now where were we before I got all maudlin
Yes we had finally arrived on one of those all too rare warm sunny days of the short English summer. We (that’s Berni and Michelle with willow the dog, Jo and I) stopped first at The Beeches and walked in finding uncle Michael the current family tennant and one of his daughters with a brand new grandchild. After a few minutes trying to work out who is who we settle on names and are informed that everyone is in the Priory which is just beyond the Church. We troop out promising to return later to chat and catch up on things. (Given it is around 13 years since I was last there it could be a long chat)
As we stroll past the church I hear a voice say “Is that Stephen” from over the wall and we immediately fall upon half a dozen Aunts and Uncles, Children and grandchildren there are kids everywhere. Also in attendance are two of my brothers Joe and Philip which is a welcome surprise (more about them later)
There are lots of hugs, kisses and handshakes and 3 people mistake me for my brother Jeremy which is unfortunate as he is around 12 years older and 12 inches shorter than I am so this prompts me to call for the name tags we had made (just to ensure there are no repeat errors during the rest of the visit). It’s my fault of course for being absent for so long.
One of the first things that strike’s me is how many of my aunt’s look like my mother, now of course families do tend to look alike and this is not a new phenomenon and with big families there is possibly more opportunity to see this. It was still somewhat of a shock. They don’t look exactly like mum of course but enough to make you stare a bit. It is probably only now as they move through and beyond their 60’s and 70’s that they show the blood line more prominently.
Not sure if I mentioned my mother was one of 12 children, lead in my memory by Grandma Malone. I never knew my maternal Grandfather he died just before or after I was born which must have been disappointing to have survived the Great War but not lived on to enjoy the rewards of the freedom. He left behind quite a clan. In order Philip, Maria (my mum) Austin, Michael, Zita, Elizabeth, Josephine, David, Philomena, Gillian, Francis and Mary. (Thanks to my sister Jo for the list there was no way I would have remembered I was not even sure how many there were). As a young child they all scared me a little, not that they were scary they were just different.
They are a lot less scary now; well Zita still makes me apprehensive but anyone who at 79 thinks nothing of driving the length of Britain or Europe rolls her own cigarettes one should be a little wary of.
The multitude of kids swarm back and forth like little bees, visiting the feeding station and flying off again to go and play in the large garden and attached fields which are serving one as a car park and one as a camping ground for those staying over. Not a camper myself I have other plans (it’s a secret) for tonight. There were probably 20 children there and not a PS2 or Game boy or Nintendo or whatever they are called in evidence. No princesses clamoring to watch “The little Mermaid, Finding Nemo or Beauty and the Beast” for the umpteenth time and no teenagers with earphones in slouching moodily in corners. They were just kids playing at being kids and running around not a thing which required batteries or miniature screens was in evidence.
Much amusement was had trying to guess names and relationships, I helped out by pointing to my name tag to speed up the process. Berni has less of a problem as everyone agrees he looks the spitting image of…….. Anyway everyone identified correctly we can settle down and try and work out who owns which children.
The day passes slowly as we swap adventures and travels and generally catch up with the gossip which has waited over a decade to be spoken. Food and drink comes and goes without issue although I do spot a savory Pork Pie in the kitchen. It is a foot long and the shape of a couple of house bricks which I think has my name on the side of it and if not it soon will have, made by some friendly butcher in Birmingham.
A word about the two of my brothers who are in attendance. Philip is a confirmed bachelor who has steered pantechnicon’s around England most of his life supposedly retired about 15 years ago he still seems to be on the road a lot and still enjoying himself. Joe joined the army as a boy soldier and saw action in many of the world hot spots (Yemen, Kenya, Northern Ireland, etc) as the British tried desperately to exert its influence onto bits of the empire they should have released, a wild child in his youth he spends his days at home in North Wales or travelling around in a camper van having fun. (Maybe travel is in my blood)
I see these two every day even though we live in different parts of the world. When I get up in the morning and go shower my hair has the same look as Philips, it has overnight developed a mind of its own and is sticking out in unruly tufts in different directions, my face if I have not shaved for a few days is wiry and I recognize Philip staring back at me through blurry eyes, this has the effect of spurring me unto the cubicle. Afterwards when clean shaven and combed I see Joe’s face staring back at me, hair neat and flat skin with not a trace of bristle about it. Now given both of these siblings are older than me I think I should be worried. I resolve once again to take up the “Beckham” routine, that’s the one where he regularly uses facial scrubs and cream to hold back the ravages of time not the one where he gets photographed in his underwear for celebrity magazines.
On the up side seeing these faces in the morning I now know what the future holds for me, on the downside I now know what the future holds for me.
Tomorrow what is 7 foot wide and 70 foot long and floats on water.