Once upon a time this was about Me and The Boy. The it was Me, The Boy, The Cat and The Cat's Mother. And now, I'm not sure who it's about. How life changes when you least expect it!
Friday 18 June 2010
Meet The Parents
For a short period, Grandma in Cyprus is once more Grandma in Cyprus Not in Cyprus - a name she acquired during the months it took from her declaration that she was moving to the Mediterranean island to actually achieving it - selling a house, even three and a half years ago was not the easiest of tasks.
Anyway, she's over in Engerland, enjoying the cold summer we're having. In Cyprus, when the temperature drops below 25, she dons woollen mittens and a thick scarf...here in Blighty, she should add several more layers of clothing. She understands the suffering of the Eskimos.
The fact that she's here at all is testament to her remarkable stamina and will-power - it's just a couple of weeks since she had a major operation that's been known to floor women half her age.
Anyway, we invited her over for dinner. Which I feel is better than when she first met The Boys mother. That was a few days after we got married. Yes I know, but it's provided conversation for years since.
There was nervousness aplenty. As a menu, I suggested that we heat something in a packet from Marks and Spencer, but that didn't seem to go down too well. So The Boy and The Cat stuffed peppers, whilst The Cat's Mum did something nice with chicken. I did strategy and supervision. And bit my nails. And was made to tidy my stuff away. Again. This is really quite tough for me.
GinCnotinC was accompanied, of course, by Stepgrandad in Cyprus not in Cyprus. I guess it all went pretty well as everyone is talking to each other today. I'm not sure what we talked about over dinner in the conservatory, but the evening rattled past quite nicely. Of course the bottle of red wine helped us, whilst SGinCnotinC quaffed his favourite white wine...you may know it - it has a colourful religious order on it.
I do remember that I was just about to talk about the fox and her cubs that live at the bottom of the garden, when a scrawny example walked past the window. He didn't seem that interested in us too much, he didn't look too well either...just a passing traveller I think. Passing travellers....