My dear little friend, Suzannah, sent me a beautiful pair of sunnies with pink roses all over the top and along the lugs. I am actually weating her sunnies on the front of this blogg. We were both at a family wedding in Laidley earlier this
year and as you can probably tell, I had had a couple of little eensy, weensy drinks so put on Suzannah's sunnies and took a few selfies which I then forwarded to Himself until he sent me a text "What's with the sunnies?" Not, "You are obviously having
a good time" or "I had briefly forgotten how beautiful you are." No, nothing like that, just "What's with the sunnies?" Anyway, the gorgeous Suzannah sent me these.
This morning I tried to get a photo to put in with this but the bright sunlight
did absolutely nothing for my wrinkles!!! I tried to get a front facing one and a good profile but couldn't find a good profile at all. I'm sure one of them was good at one stage. I commented to Himself about the wrinkles but he just said
"That's your problem." He was busy. Probably makes sure he doesn't look at me in the bright sunlight. The dim, soft light inside is much kinder. "Go and put a scarf on" he said without even a smile. I did and that was better but I couldn't
stop laughing. He ignored me even though I was practically rolling on the floor. He can do that. He's very good at it. I think he practices. Each time I tried to take the photo I just shook with laughter and the tears ran down my face. How
can you be serious when you look like this? Years ago at work the photo on the drivers licence of one of the girls was so awful that if we were having a bad day we would get her to pull it out so we could all have a good laugh. This was a bit like that
only I hadn't even taken the photo!!!
A few years ago I was looking after the Hull children in Bourke for a brief period and one night Alister couldn't settle down to sleep. We had had a story (he reads better than i do so he probably read it
to me) and talked a bit but he was put out about the light coming through the glass front door into his bedroom. I suggested we shut his bedroom door but he would have none of it, just complained about the bright light. I explained about the old
people's home and that they needed the lights for security reasons and maybe if a doctor had to come during the night or an ambulance and they would be able to see where to go.
He eventually bought the argument but as he settled down to sleep I heard
him muttering "Bloody old people." I had to laugh. Out of the mouths of babes. I have told that tale many times and use the phrase frequently myself. Everyone laughs because it is so true. You just have to do something stupid, trip
over, drop something, forget something and there it is "Bloody old people." He was only about 7 or 8.
A couple of years ago Andrew asked me to pick Mia up from her school in Orange after she had been to a cadet camp. I duly did this and
brought her home for the night before putting her on the XPT the following day for Bourke. We had a good night but she was very tired after the week of camp and went to bed early.
We were at the railway station early (no fault of hers) so that
we could book her suitcases through. There were only a couple of people waiting on the platform as it was cold, most of them taking advantage of the warm waiting room. We were standing outside though getting a bit of winter sun and discussing
whether she should take her slouch hat home with her or whether I should take it back with me and if I did would I remember to bring it back to Orange for her next term. She decided on taking it with her and, looking at it, I started singing "Just a
brown slouch hat with the side turned up but it means the world to me..." "Nanna Hull don't SING" she hissed at me out of the corner of her mouth. I turned slightly and could see a young lad a couple of years older than her sitting
on a bench beside us. Oh the shame, especially when you're trying to look cool!!! She couldn't wait to get on the train but the seats are allocated on the XPT and of course, because he was getting on at Bathurst as well, he sat beside her.
This year we did the same thing, I picked her up and brought her home. We had a nice night. It is lovely to spend time with them one on one and the next day we went to the station again and booked the suitcases through. I kept the offending
hat this time but as she was getting on the train I could feel tears coming to my eyes. She was standing on the landing looking back at me. "What are you crying for?" She couldn't believe it. Bloody old people for heavens sake!!! The
guard said "Go on, get off and give her another big hug." She laughingly did and of course I really cried then. Oh the shame again. Do you ever get to look cool with a grandmother?
It reminded me of when I was a child. I stayed
with my grandmother at Mandurama for a lot of my first 8 years and when any of the family would visit for a few days and then leave, she and I would stand on the verandah and wave them off. Nanny always cried. When you're young you never understand
that wrench when loved ones leave.
After picking Mia up this time we had discussed the driving lessons I knew she was having. She told me that the driving instructor was good but that he had dual controls in the car which he had used a couple
of times "As if he doesn't trust me!!" she said, totally amazed. She couldn't understand it. Why would he not trust her? Well, coming home, I let her have a drive from the highway in. She is a good driver and I know she has been driving
around the paddocks at Bourke for quite a while. I would have let her drive more than that but she didn't have her Ls with her.
There is a small rise before you turn slightly to come in our carport and the roller door was down. I had
the distinct impression that she wasn't going to stop for the door and had a slight gasp. However, she pulled up in time. I sat there for the briefest moment, breathing again and then became aware of her accusing eyes staring fixedly at my feet
planted firmly on the floor. If I had had dual controls I would have used them and she knew. Nothing was said but Bloody old people get nervous.