Holding Back Time

      Yesterday morning after a lovely late breakfast with my Barcelona family, I took a walk to the beach. It was a warm sunny day and as I sat watching the Sunday people promenading, I couldn't help thinking that we are all, one way or another, trying to hold back time. There were beautiful young people everywhere, running, jogging, skating and playing beach volleyball,  all with so much energy, and all fighting a losing battle! Even the very little ones, so delightful and full of beans on their little bikes and scooters are rushing headlong into a future they can't contain. The little ones want to be older, the older ones want to be younger and fitter, but we are all heading towards the same place, unavoidably. I understand why older men want younger women partners, (and vice versa) because it gives the illusion of more years, more time to spend or fritter away - because that's what we are all doing. As I watched the throngs of people, the little boats bobbing in the sun, the paddle boarders, and all humanity, it was something of a revelation to me - and I hope not a depressing one for you. Personally I found it strangely comforting, but perhaps that's because I'm fairly well adjusted to getting older - and I'm doing it mostly alone. Really, there's no choice so we may as well enjoy it.
      It was the perfect weekend for those of us who are mad about football. I just love watching it, and used to love playing it with big Grandson. Sadly for  me, I can't run any more, and that upsets me - but anyway I can watch my beloved Spurs, and even from here I can manage to Live Stream the matches I want to see. Son and I had a bit of a pantomime sorting it out but in the end we were able to watch the winning goal for the Spurs (good old Harry Kane - though he's only 24) and see the Arsenal soundly beaten by Manchester City at Wembley.  And because Chelsea lost their match with Manchester United,  we moved up to 3rd in the Premier League. Good results all round (as long as you don't support the Arsenal). The football was accompanied by a very tasty Bolognese supper (at Son's apartment at half time!) and then small Grandson throwing himself around the sitting room in a regular fury of energy just before he went to bed. And then I strolled 'home' to my apartment. where I sat with a glass of wine in utter peace and comfort. Lucky me...
   
   

Chilly in Barcelona

      Believe it or not, it's pretty cold here. I'm very glad I brought some warm clothes, because I'm actually wearing them. It's rather different from New Year, when we were boiling hot on the beach and I was stripping off and paddling in the sea - no chance of that at the mo, though I don't mind at all. I'm planning to do some serious writing while I'm here,  so at least the sun is not tempting me out.
      Son and Partner are currently choosing a school here for when Grandson is ready to go. There are apparently many to choose from within their area, and so they are doing school visits while I'm here to help with the little one.  Last evening we all went to an open evening, which was so crowded there were no spare seats, and since the whole presentation was in Spanish, much of it was lost on Son,, It went on for over an hour after which there was a tour of the school. And they are doing 10 or 11 of these. It is a bit of a lottery here, rather like at home, and there are obviously more schools available
but as always, so much seems to hang on making the right decision.
     Anyway it was all a bit tiring for everyone. We went for a quick pizza & pasta afterwards, which was nice, but everyone was exhausted (they had done a full day's work and Grandson had done a day at Nursery) so not surprisingly Grandson was rather poorly today. He is now here with me, dozing in my bed surrounded by his polar bear, tigger and mouse. He has had a dose of Calpol, or the Spanish equivalent, and his poor parents have gone off to yet another School presentation.
     It's a hard life and I'm rather glad to be here in the warm chatting to you..
   
     

Time Out..

   Well here I am with my laptop, a cup of tea and Radio 3, getting used to being in my own apartment in Barcelona. Though you could say that I'm hardly out of my comfort zone with all those 'home' comforts. The weather is also making me feel quite at home because it's overcast, not the sunny Barcelona I've become accustomed to in previous visits. Anyway, it is lovely to be here, in an apartment which is truly an artist's studio - a huge open space with floor to ceiling windows, a shiny marble floor, enormous paintings leaning nonchalantly around the walls and a jungle of very large green plants in very large pots between me and the windows. I love it.
   I arrived yesterday and was collected at the airport by a smiling Son, who whisked me here to drop my luggage before we went to collect grandson from Nursery. I don't know who was more excited, him or me (Grandson I mean - Son managed to contain his excitement). Then we all went on a magic shopping trip to their favourite organic supermarket where I wandered around in a bit of a daze and managed to forget several of the essentials (milk, water, chocolate) but did buy enough stuff to keep body and soul together (bread and wine in particular).
   I slept very soundly last night in this new place, and woke at 9 feeling rather strange but happy. I made a cup of tea by boiling water in a saucepan (can't reach the kettle which I finally located on top of a very tall cupboard) drank it without milk (!) and then negotiated the shower pretty successfully.
I finally got out of the house at about midday, and sat outside a nearby cafe with a cortado and a lovely little croissant. Heaven knows why we don't have these delightful little street cafes serving perfect coffee and perfect little pastries without any fuss, climate I suppose, but it is all so civilised.
   I think I'll go for another walk and acclimatise myself a bit more - there's a spot of sun coming out and it looks rather inviting. I'm only a 10 minute stroll from Son's apartment and just a bit further from the beach. I'll be back later with more jottings from Barcelona..
   
   

"Men may come and men may go..."

  "... But children are forever"
   Those wise words were spoken by an old friend of mine, many years ago when all of our children were pretty young. And the words came from our experiences. We were reflecting, in our relative maturity, on the ephemeral nature of our (failed) relationships with husbands and lovers, when compared with the lifelong commitment that bringing up children requires.
   Of course, this was a long time ago and, sadly, our friendship didn't last either. But I have been reminded of just those feelings by what is happening with Daughter right now. She has dived into
yet another relationship and I am watching from the sidelines and can't help noticing that Grandson seems to be getting the short end of the stick. He is 13, and I know how tricky the teenage years are, but the nice house, which was meant for Daughter, Grandson and little Granddaughter to live in while they recovered a bit from the previous failed relationship, is now stuffed full with new Man plus his three children (not full time at least) and a dog. It's just too much and it is getting to Grandson. He is having to share his bedroom with new Man's 18 yr old, (who is perfectly nice,but virtually a stranger) in what is an already overcrowded space, and is also being compared, unfavourably, with the new Man's children,  He has been to stay with me for a couple of days over half term, just to get a bit of peace - but of course he eventually wants to go back home because he loves his Mum and misses her. I do worry about him, and I know that Daughter is trying to keep everything together. I  hope she puts her children first - though you may disagree with  me - I just know how hard it is for children to adapt with regard to adult relationships. I can see that the "new Man" is getting his feet under the table, and probably sees Grandson as the opposition! And that I can't bear.
   I delivered Grandson back home last evening and literally watched him change as we got closer.  I was driving, but I could feel the tension in him. It was as if he was putting on armour in readiness for the encounter. Poor lad, at 13 he's absolutely not equipped to deal with competition for his Mother's affections (and that is surely what it is).  I think it's all too much.
   I probably feel worse about it because I am about to go off to Barcelona again for a prolonged stay and I worry that Grandson will be unhappy while I'm away. Of course I may be wrong (I usually am) but I think that expecting young boys to "get on with it" and "man up" is the worst possible thing for them. Just when they are becoming aware of their emotions, it tells them to smother their feelings and can only lead to more failed relationships in the future, and to emotional upheavals of one sort or another. I do know that whatever one does can be construed as 'wrong' just because they need rebellion of some sort. But I want to avoid permanent damage for Grandson - he has had so much upheaval in his young life already:  his Mum has had so many boyfriends, he has had too many potential "Dads" (and two real ones), he has moved both house and school so many times that I feel he has too much bubbling under the surface that is bound to come out at some time.
I just hope it doesn't happen when I'm away -at least if I'm around to pick up the pieces it might help.
   Of course all this is what I would say to Daughter if we could just sit down together and talk calmly about the situation. Alas, I lack the courage. She is my baby and so I love her unconditionally. If I do interfere I will only be in the wrong again, and she will tell me that everything is fine,
   Oh for a magic wand to wave!

A Friday to Monday..

Of course, a "Friday to Monday" is the posh version of a weekend, which for you and me is usually just Saturday and Sunday. Anyway, I was lucky enough to have Son and his family here actually from Friday to Monday, and as they had been 'busy busy' in London for the previous week they were looking forward to a restful time, and to catching up with Daughter and her family. - though I'm not too sure that the two things were conducive to each other .
  As it happened, we all met up at the new Crazy Golf at the Marina on Saturday (luckily all under cover as it was a foul day) and had great fun. There were 8 of us, including 2 three-year-olds, big Grandson who's 13, the two couples and me - so all the generations were represented, and perhaps fortunately Daughter's new bloke didn't bring any of his three children - or the dog! (And anyway I suspect dogs would not be allowed.) As you can imagine, it was a mixed event, with big Grandson mostly acting as referee with the three yr olds, and the rest of us trailing along behind. We were split into two teams (four girls and four boys) and I won the girls' event, with Son winning the boys'.. Afterwards we all retired to Cafe Rouge for a coffee and by then the ice was broken (if there was any to begin with) between the two  families. It's not easy especially when Son and his lot live in Barcelona now and Daughter has a frantically busy job, her two children,  a new man with 3 children (and a dog) and very little free time. I sit on the sidelines mostly, simply doing what I can to make sure that relationships between them are good. But as we all know, a Mother's place is in the wrong, so I tread carefully.
  Next this week is big Grandson's  third ear operation in a year. He has had a rotten time with painful ear infections and this time last year he had his first set of gromits put in. They were not entirely successful so he had a second operation in the Summer, and now he needs a third op, which is scheduled for tomorrow (Tuesday) and which may also involve having his adenoids removed. The last time we went for a check-up, the Consultant took a long look inside the offending ears  and said   "Your tubes are rubbish William!" Poor chap, he never complains though it must be pretty miserable for him. We shall see what happens tomorrow, and I rather hope that the surgeon decides to remove
his adenoids anyway, though it does mean he would have to have to have a week off school to avoid any germs or infections. I guess that means a week with me,  but I don't mind at all. We can get cosy with some nice food and a film or two.

Blue Moon..

Last night was one of those rare nights when I tossed and turned and just couldn't go back to sleep. I don't really mind them too much, because I don't  have to leap out of bed early for work any more,  so I can catch up easily. But last night I was aware of the significance of the full moon - apparently a super blue blood moon, which appears once in 150 years, and there was going to be an eclipse too.
Well, it looked just like the normal moon to me, and I popped out of bed three or four times to check on it. It was very bright though, and I gazed at the stars for a bit, wishing I was in an area with less light pollution so that I could see more of them.
  Back to bed and I ended up trying  to sing myself  to sleep. I go through a regular repertoire, beginning with lullabies I used to sing to the children and often  going on to the complete Ella Fitzgerald song books: Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hart etc.. I know all of these off by heart because I had the old vinyl albums when I were a girl, and can repeat every phrase and note still, after all these years. I guess it must  have worked anyway, because I woke again at 8.30, feeling fairly chipper. I can't remember how far I got through the albums, but I know that at one point I was singing:
   "I could cry salty tears, where have I been all these years.." For those of  you who may not know these lovely lyrics, that's from "How long has this been going on?"
  And there's another Blue Moon connection, which funnily enough I was talking to my Sister about
just the other day. She remembered that I used to sing that very song, dressed in  a long, midnight blue evening dress with (wait for it) a boned bodice and wonderfully full net skirt! That was when I  sang occasionally with a local group called the Terry Graham Trio, consisting of Terry Lovelock on drums, Graham Bond on any instrument you could care to name, and Bob Somebody on the piano. (Apologies for not remembering Bob's surname, but it was roughly a hundred years ago!)
  I was about 17 at the time and we used to play for 6th form dances and wedding receptions. And "Blue Moon" was one of our regular songs. Graham went  on to be very famous, he was so talented it was quite breathtaking - he played the piano, keyboards, vibes and all the saxophones, and the trio specialised in modern jazz, so  Ella Fitzgerald songs were a natural choice. I used to get terribly nervous, so I wasn't a great success. but we had such fun. Sadly, Graham committed suicide a long time ago now, though not before he formed the Graham Bond Organisation with Ginger Baker (that old reprobate). Drugs were Graham's downfall and though I saw him a few times during those years,
he really wasn't the old Graham any more. Terry and I have remained friends all these years, and both ended up working in Advertising, which I suppose you could say was another kind of drug - though
not quite as life-threatening.
  Heavens, how time slips away - I've got to get going. Son and family are coming for the weekend before they fly back to Barcelona, so I have a list as long as your arm. I have to get the right cereal, milk (not cow's), bread, fruit and veg. And do a bit of cooking in advance - I might have another try at baking Madeleines, which were quite successful last time. And it's big Grandson's Options Evening at school this evening. I have said I will go and help him and Daughter, so that's my day sorted.