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
2nd, 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,
9th 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”
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