Sweet Thing

My auntie Thea was a skinny thing; I have memories of straight hair and thin arms and legs, emerging often from baggy jumpers.  So it always tickled me that the thing that has always reminded me of her is chocolate.  And not just any chocolate, but Fry's Peppermint Cream. I'd never even really noticed its existence until Thea said it was one of her favourites.  I cannot remember how old I was when we discussed it, even.  But the next time I saw it in a shop, I purchased it, and delighted in it  - a thick bar equivalent of After Eights, this is a crisp, dark chocolate bar filled with stiff, minty fondant; I adore it.  Since, although I don't see it often, and certainly not in the states, when it's there I buy it. And, without fail, it makes me think of her.

She loved liquorice allsorts, too.  A real sweet tooth, Thea.

I can hear her voice so clearly.  Strong brummy accent, with laughter in it.  I'll never be able to hear Van Morrison without thinking of her. 

Last time I saw her - which was too long ago - she had dyed her normally brown hair blonde, and she joked about it being frivolous and a bit of fun; she looked great.  She would often slip out to smoke one of her ever present rollies; she danced away with us as we celebrated at my cousin's wedding.  It was my birthday, too; a rare treat to celebrate with so many members of my family.

Yesterday, flying back from her funeral, I searched WH Smith's in Heathrow terminal 3 for Fry's Peppermint Cream; they didn't have any. 

I'm New Here*

*Warning: personal life story and rant forthcoming.

Have I mentioned how much I am absolutely loving Gil Scott-Heron's latest album, I'm New Here? If not, I should have. It's definitely one of the best albums of 2010 thus far and, I think, has the potential to become one of the best albums I own. His voice and lyrics are glorious; the music is spectacular and some of the most inventive and amazing hip hop and electronic sounds I've heard in ages.

All of it is extremely good and you should check it out, but the first track is the one that really hit me hard: On Coming from a Broken Home. It starts with a sample from Kanye's Flashing Lights, those strings, and then he contemplatively discusses his view of his childhood in comparison to what others perceived. That has some resonance for me. The killer combo is this bit:

and I was full grown before I knew
I came from a broken home

When I was about 8, my parents went to a teacher-parent evening and the teacher, on finding out my parents were divorced, was shocked - "I didn't know she came from a broken home - you can't tell." Or words to that effect. My mother told me several years later when I was reminiscing about how much I'd liked my primary school and that teacher in particular - she pulled a face, and eventually I pried the insulting memory out of her.

That was the first time I ever remember that term being applied to my familial situation. According to this teacher, bright achieving kids who were well-adjusted didn't come from "broken homes" - it didn't happen to people like us (the class-based snobbery was supreme). But my home wasn't "broken." I had two extremely loving and supportive parents; I had an incredibly stable routine in which my parents always rang when they were supposed to, always came to my various musical performances, parents' evenings, sporting events and so on. You couldn't play one parent off against another because they put their differences aside to talk about things and make joint decisions about us. I have friends who grew up in far less emotionally well-off households with parents who were superficially arranged in the "optimal" way but, in fact, made each other miserable and their children tense. Of course my childhood wasn't perfect, but I had no idea until my mother told me about that parent-teacher meeting, several years later, that someone might consider it actively bad for me. And so, whenever people use raising children in a nuclear, hetero-parent family as the "norm" and the reason to deny gay couples a family, it incenses me, because for years people have assumed that divorce = automatic child-rearing failure and yet my parents did a bloody good job.

Anyway, I love this album. I love Gil Scott-Heron. And I love my parents for the job they did. They're great.

It Shall Not Stand

My dad researches and instructs other teachers on methodology and school effectiveness, including work in far-flung places, with it regularly taking him to Brazil, Pakistan, and Tonbridge Wells.* Because he is now such a seasoned traveller, he has got used to odd hours and his body clock being awry. One of my favourite ever conversations with him involved him announcing that he'd found a way to get over jetlag. Ever eager to get over it, as I suffer terribly when I don't sleep (as I may have mentioned), I asked him what it was. "Just don't give in to it. I've decided" came the response.

Would that I had the willpower. Waking up at 5 two mornings in a row seems to indicate otherwise.

* I always want to ask him if he ever comes across "angry of..." the aforementioned TW.

Arrivals

Babies, babies, everywhere. Today arrived the third of a trio of munchkins born to friends and family in the past seven days. It seems that everyone is getting sprogged up these days. I have two good friends getting married in the near future who plan to start trying pretty much as soon as the vows are done - although hopefully not as visibly as in The Wedding Banquet - and several other friends who are indeed up the duff.*

I am still - even despite my advancing years and ticking clock - very much of the feeling that sprogging is not something I want to do. Nonetheless, if everyone's doing it, I'm very happy that people I think will do wonderful jobs as parents are among them. Particularly as today's arrival was something his parents were told would and could never happen, with or without medical assistance. So he is, for want of a better term, a bit of a miracle. Which should put a spring in your step today, as it has to mine. Because good and much wished-for things can happen to good people.

* There are many fabulous ways to say the horribly coy "with child," my favourite being "up the duff," which is how my dearest HJ told me.

Mamma Mia

Today is my mother's birthday. It's horrible being away from some of the most important people in your life at the best of times, but on days like today, it's really miserable, for all concerned. It doesn't help when the sun is shining; it jars, making me feel at odds with the world. The time difference is a huge problem; my day was just starting and my mother's was already in the afternoon, and is probably wondering why I've not phoned yet, when I'm going to. It's inevitable, even when you know rationally of the time difference and that it's impossible for them to call.

Still, my mother is hopefully rejoicing in the glow from TWO English victories yesterday (although how much glow you get from beating Estonia is up for debate) and the knowledge that it's also Cliff Richard's birthday today, too. So I decided to look up other important things, to prove it's an auspicious day:

• Battle of Hastings - well, I knew that one. Still cool.
• Battle of Byland - Robert the Bruce forcing England to accept Scotland's independence.
• In 1582 this day did not exist in Italy, Portugal, Poland and Spain due to implementation of the Georgian calendar.
• George Washington proclaims the first ever Thanksgiving in 1789.
• Henry Blair is the first African American to receive a patent, in 1834
• In 1963 it marks the first use of the term Beatlemania
• MLK becomes the youngest person to win the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964

And awesome people sharing a birthday with my mum:

• William Penn
• Eamon de Valera
• Hannah Arendt
• Roger Moore
• Ralph Lauren
• Christopher Timothy
• Steve Cram
• Steve Coogan
• and, my personal favourite, Usher

Happy Birthday Mum.

A New Hope

My second cousin was born earlier today, a healthy 6.5lb boy. No name as of yet. But very exciting, and reminded me that I can never work out how you'd be once removed or how you're a second cousin. Aha, I was mistaken. Apparently, according to this very useful (if still somewhat confusing) article on genealogy.com, the little ball of joy will be my first cousin, once removed, because my grandparents would have been his great-grandparents. There you go. The "removed" bit is to indicate a difference in generation. Second cousins are those with the same great-grandparents. Blimey. Congratulations, anyway, to the happy parents - I now have three once-removed-first-cousins. So the giant family grows some more!

Also good, as it counteracts the news that my cat has lost half her tail. The other new addition to our family is a guinea pig named Darren. As you do.

So here, on that familial theme, is a photo of my gorgeous first cousins. Not removed, just young.