H.A.P.P.Y.
Words from a Bird. Day 30
Now that Nanny's funeral is almost upon us, family members are starting to head north and south to come together for the final goodbye on Monday. From my point of view, this heralds the arrival of all of my children from various homes and universities.
Son number 1 and daughter number 2 were the first to arrive, staggering through the front door hauling behind them a sack of dirty washing the like of which I haven't seen since Will Smith dragged an alien-laden parachute in Independence Day.
One load made it into the washing machine, the other as far as the kitchen floor, lying on the tiles like a wounded animal. In fact, I am sure I spotted a pulsing beat a couple of times, so I reckon that the washing will make its own way to the washing machine if I leave it there long enough. I am now wondering whether there actually is an alien in there!
Daughter number 1 was extremely hacked off to see that the middle two had already tipped up, as this meant that she would have to now sleep in her own room rather than squatting in one of theirs. Of course, her room (currently known as 'The Dumping Ground') has been unslept in for some time with no heating, so is a bit chilly. Not only is it sub-zero, but as it has been living up to its new job title, it is unlikely that she will locate the bed until March.
Of course, daughter number 2's bedroom (Percy's Room) has heating as befitting the bedchamber of a much loved pet, and son number 1's bedroom is also toasty warm. I knew he was coming so could prepare, evicting the penguins and putting the radiator on.
Son number 2 turned up last - his first comment, 'When are you lot going back then?' I suppose he's got used to being the equivalent of an only child over the last two years, with all its benefits. From his point of view, the arrival of the three older ones means queues for the bathroom, no parking space on the drive, an empty fridge and, when the girls are involved, not a chance of getting even the narrowest of words in edgeways. However, what is does mean is that he can supplement his wardrobe with the odd stolen shirt or two and pinch the girls' hairstyling products (don't ask...)
But as I sit here alone, having listened to all of them catch up excitedly on each other's lives, their love for each other so apparent, and then watched them head off together for a drink (insisting that dad came too), I do count my blessings.
As I said to a friend yesterday, if you have to depend on material things to bring you joy, then you will never be happy.
Now that Nanny's funeral is almost upon us, family members are starting to head north and south to come together for the final goodbye on Monday. From my point of view, this heralds the arrival of all of my children from various homes and universities.
Son number 1 and daughter number 2 were the first to arrive, staggering through the front door hauling behind them a sack of dirty washing the like of which I haven't seen since Will Smith dragged an alien-laden parachute in Independence Day.
One load made it into the washing machine, the other as far as the kitchen floor, lying on the tiles like a wounded animal. In fact, I am sure I spotted a pulsing beat a couple of times, so I reckon that the washing will make its own way to the washing machine if I leave it there long enough. I am now wondering whether there actually is an alien in there!
Daughter number 1 was extremely hacked off to see that the middle two had already tipped up, as this meant that she would have to now sleep in her own room rather than squatting in one of theirs. Of course, her room (currently known as 'The Dumping Ground') has been unslept in for some time with no heating, so is a bit chilly. Not only is it sub-zero, but as it has been living up to its new job title, it is unlikely that she will locate the bed until March.
Of course, daughter number 2's bedroom (Percy's Room) has heating as befitting the bedchamber of a much loved pet, and son number 1's bedroom is also toasty warm. I knew he was coming so could prepare, evicting the penguins and putting the radiator on.
Son number 2 turned up last - his first comment, 'When are you lot going back then?' I suppose he's got used to being the equivalent of an only child over the last two years, with all its benefits. From his point of view, the arrival of the three older ones means queues for the bathroom, no parking space on the drive, an empty fridge and, when the girls are involved, not a chance of getting even the narrowest of words in edgeways. However, what is does mean is that he can supplement his wardrobe with the odd stolen shirt or two and pinch the girls' hairstyling products (don't ask...)
But as I sit here alone, having listened to all of them catch up excitedly on each other's lives, their love for each other so apparent, and then watched them head off together for a drink (insisting that dad came too), I do count my blessings.
As I said to a friend yesterday, if you have to depend on material things to bring you joy, then you will never be happy.
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