I know you have been waiting with bated breath, as they say, to hear what occurred at our dinner last Sunday. Gay Friend arrived looking smart as ever, and the roast dinner was timed perfectly. I called Mr Picky down and introduced him to GF. Mr.P had shaved (increasingly rare) and looked very clean. He seemed pleased to meet GF, but as he doesn't understand half one says, it's difficult to know for sure. I introduced GF as someone who "buys and sells old clothes". Now this was naughty I know, but I couldn't bloody resist it. And you should have seen The Wee Git's face (I have decided to re-christen him The Wee Git after a suggestion by my dear friend MOB). He looked confused, and then realized that I was serious. And Gay Friend insisted on engaging him in a conversation about the local Charity Shops and what good work they do for the Community. The Wee Git's face was a picture, but he obviously didn't dare to repeat his previous opinions about "lower class people" (GF is quite tall and imposing - and of course he's a bloke!), and retired 'hurt' soon after our meal. It was a great way to let off steam for me, and we laughed ourselves silly afterwards. For those of you who haven't heard GF's laugh, I'll try to describe it - a witch's cackle combined with a Steamboat hooter would come pretty close - but even then it's not quite right. And it is embarrassingly loud. So, a good time was had by (almost) all - and don't attempt to make me feel guilty you lot - you know I'm a softie when it comes to emotional appeals, but this Wee Git has been driving me mad for five weeks now! And I've got five more to go..
I somehow managed to get myself into an emotional two-and-eight today because I was looking at some old family photographs. When Daughter was living here with Grandson, a few years ago, she decided to put all my old photos into albums, and the result was wonderful. Instead of putting them in chronological order, she stuck them in, in a random order which makes them far more interesting and poignant somehow. So we have photos of my childrens' Birthdays next to pics of Grandson at six months, and then photos of my two as Teenagers or on family holidays. I came to a picture of Son, a friend of Daughter's, and Me, which was taken at Christmas in Cambridge about 7 years ago. I had forgotten this picture, but not the time. Son, who was in his final year at Uni, had been going through a particularly awful patch, with the break-up of his relationship with KT, Hon grandaughter's Mum. He was very depressed, she had treated him very badly (to say the least), and I was really fearful for him. Looking at this photo, in which he looks terrible - almost haunted - and I'm trying to smile and be cheerful, made me feel heartsick. I know we got through it and have come out the other side stronger and probably better, but oh, it was painful torture. Love hurts, that's for sure, and just looking at that photo brought such a surge of protective love for Son, combined with the pain I remember when I couldn't seem to make things right for him. I could have done without that memory today, but perhaps I needed it for some reason.
Ah well, time for bed. Sweet dreams to you all.