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Teenage dirtbag...

Words from a Bird.  Day 87

So it was the usual Saturday breakfast this morning.  We had decided that it might be good to try a different venue for a change, and all six of us trolleyed into Bill's.  No room in that particular inn, so off we went again, heading down Marlow High Street to Barouche, our usual stamping ground.  As we all trotted down the High Street, we resembled a sketch on the Benny Hill Show, with my mother up front, followed by the rest of us.  The only disappointing thing was that she wasn't wearing a skimpy nurse's uniform, and nobody had pinched her bottom.  She still managed a fair pace down the High Street though.  I think it's down to the siren call of the sausage sandwich...

For the second week running, breakfast was pretty good.  My sausage sandwich was served with unbuttered bread, which actually makes it more 'sausages slapped between two slices of bare bread' rather than an actual sandwich, but this was remedied with a butter side order.  (I piled it on in a fit of pique, which I'll probably regret tomorrow, but hey, I live life on the edge...)

After breakfast, it was a final visit to Nanny's house.  Having cleared the flat, the only space left to do was the shed.  This has been left till last for two reasons.

1.  It has been used as a dumping ground for the stuff coming out of the flat.

2. Spiders.....big spiders....

The shed had much to offer.....rubbish, crap and garbage, all covered with a liberal sprinkling of old spider webs and copious amounts of dust.  My sister and I did attempt to foist the tartan terror shopping trolley onto our mother, insisting that she should be thinking ahead, but she didn't find that funny for some reason. So instead, we filled it with all the bits and pieces we could and wheeled it out to the car for its last journey to the local tip.  We looked like a couple of down and outs as we pushed it down the road, the saucepans, broom head, rug and paintbrushes sticking out the top didn't help...

Having locked the shed up, it was time for a final goodbye to my nanny and her home, as I knew I wouldn't be back again.  I went through all the rooms, my fingertips touching the walls of the home she had loved.  I could see her in the kitchen with a plate of macaroons and chocolate rolls, and in the lounge with a cup of tea watching her great grandchildren playing on the rug.  She was in the dining room having her lunch with the Daily Mail listening to Jeremy Vine, and in her last few weeks tucked up in her bed, wishing us 'goodnight' as we tiptoed away.  As I walked out, I could see her so clearly, sitting in the sunshine her face tilted up to the sun.

All this and more, we'll remember.......

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