Hanging out with family

                Here in England, school holidays are about six to seven weeks long.  Holiday season begins the very last week of July and goes through to the end of August or first week of September. 

                When I think of summer holidays, memories of mid-year in Indiana surface in my mind.  Our parents arranged for us to spend time with our grandparents. 

                My father’s mother we called Granny.  (She didn’t like the sound of Grandma!).  She was married to Gramps.    My mother’s mother we called Grandma.  (She had an aversion to the term Granny!)  So differentiating between them was simple.  From the summer of 1970 until we graduated from high school my sister and I spent two weeks in southern Indiana at my Grandma’s house and two weeks in Illinois at Gramps’ and Granny’s house.  Maybe I’ll write about some of my memories later.  But I brought up the idea of visiting grandparents, because my life was enriched by spending time with them.  And I wanted to repeat that practice with my grandchildren. 

                One of the differences between being a grandchild myself and my grandchildren, is family size.  It was only my sister and me that my parents had to arrange transport for.  It was just two that my grandparents had to feed and entertain—whether together or separately. 

                I have four step-children.  Collectively, we have seventeen grandchildren.  There is no way our first-floor flat could contain a group of children.  At the very most, we could handle two for a week or two.    

                Given this, I came to the conclusion that it was easier for me to go spend a week with them instead of them trying to come to me. 

                August 2^nd, I with The Maverick and “Trusty Steed” (his bike) took the train to Dorchester, where we spent the night with “Walley & Gaz”   Their Victorian home was snug, with a tight stair case, short landing and three bedrooms upstairs. 

                To my chagrin, I forgot my camera. 

                Whilst “Walley” and I curled up in chairs and chatted, their youngest son, “Morrie”  nonchalantly came over and climbed onto the chair with me.  His favourite thing is play-dough.  I was obliged to roll out a yard-long worm!  But one has a difficult time turning down a six-year-old.   “Gaz” cooked a delicious pork roast dinner. 

                The next day The Maverick had the pleasure of riding from Dorchester to Wareham.   That Sunday was cool, partly cloudy, making for excellent riding weather.

                Happily riding in the front seat of “Gaz’s” car, the rest of us arrived at “Lacy & Mr. Biz’s” house.  They had just moved into this spacious refurbished farm house with it’s large lounge, and five bedrooms.  The kitchen has an old-fashioned gas cooker, as well as a small gas stove and oven.  The downstairs toilet and shower are off the laundry room.  The second bathroom and toilet are at the top of the stairs. 

                When we arrived, it was to find “Lacy’s” and “Walley’s” cousin, “Darr” making a fire in the barbeque.  A 50 gallon drum barrel had been converted into a grill.  Being from Zimbabwe, “Darr” was familiar with the African “Brie” lifestyle.  And being a head chef, he was more than happy to create marinade for the beef and chicken. 

                Including “Darr’s” daughter, eleven children filled the afternoon with playing, laughing, a few tears and happy chatter.  Although cool, the weather was warm enough for half the children to play in the pool in the back garden. 

                Four chickens and three ducks seem unfazed by the extra people meandering in and out of the garden.

                Because we hadn’t seen “Lacy” and “Mr. Biz” for a few months, The Maverick and I found ourselves sitting up till 2.00 am Monday morning, chatting with them.  Guess there was a lot to catch up with. 

                The Maverick caught the train late morning on Monday to come home.  He had to work on Tuesday.  I stayed until Friday.  Several times I was disappointed that I’d forgotten my camera.  But I will make sure to take it next time.

                Tuesday  “Lacy” took me, “Lollie”, “Cookie” and “Man-Cub” to Swanage, a traditional Victorian sea town.  http://www.visitswanage.com/  “Lollie” and “Cookie” enjoyed paddling in the waves and playing in the sad.  “Man-Cub”, only 10 months old, was fascinated by all the stones, grabbing sand—with the intent of putting it into his mouth.  Our two-hour stay included having ice cream. 

"Cookie", Me and "Lollie" in front

                Wednesday “Mr. Biz” was chauffer to “Lacy” “Cookie”, “Man Cub” and me.  “Mr. Biz” drove over the hills of Dorset, using back roads to help me see the breath-taking beauty of the area.  Our destination was Lulworth Cove. http://www.lulworthonline.co.uk/ When we drove into the car park, I looked up the hill and thought “No way!  You’ve got to be joking!”    We were facing a hill of about a 30 degree angle.   The path was graduated, with crushed rock and landings.  We took it slowly, but I made it to the top of the hill.  However I didn’t actually see the horseshoe-shaped cove, as it meant going down the hill.  Physically, I had reached my limits—knowing I wasn’t fit enough to traipse down the hill, then come back up again and back down again.  However, I wasn’t the only one who decided that the top of the hill was sufficient for the day.  Even so, the view from the top  hill was worth the trudge up the hill. 

                Eventually, we made our way back down to the shops by the entrance to the car park.  We had hot, fresh fish and chips.  “Man Cub” using his four teeth, made good work of a sausage.   We had to stand in line for ice cream.  It was made from organic milk from a local dairy. The kind of ice cream that needs to be savoured. 

                Wednesday, “Jame-oh” became ill, running a fevor.  So Thursday, “Lacy” and “Mr. Biz” spent the better part of the day at the A&E (Accident and Emergency).   The doctors kept them, wanting to make sure that “Jame-oh” did not have appendicitis.   Food poisoning was the verdict.  They gave him instructions for a light diet and some tablets.   “Jame-oh” was insistent he was going to Cadet Camp.   So, although uncomfortable, he was glad it was only something he ate. 

                Friday, 9^th August, I had a very easy, and pleasant journey home on the train.   By the time I’d arrived home though, I was tired.  Yet, as I looked back at the week, I can easily say it was time well invested.  I’m looking forward to doing it again.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”