Household chores

Ironing is the worst chore of all..no sooner has the iron cooled, than there is a new pile of smelly, crumpled clothes waiting to to be washed and de-creased. A year ago the purchase of a steam generator iron made the arduous task a little easier and more interesting for about as long as it took me to realise that the iPod whilst doubtless convenient, still played exactly the same music collection that was beginning to weary when played on the CD...and the shiny new fully-featured mobile phone still received the same (few) calls from the same people that I'd been in conversation with for the last twenty years.

Faced with the challenge last night of either doing the ironing, or the Dysoning, the boy chose the iron. Strange choice, but in his own words 'I like ironing'. Twenty odd shirts later he was done...whilst my cleaning efforts finished ten minutes before. The shirts were mostly crease-free and certainly well-hung. And the transformation of my evening from one of forced-labour to one of beery indulgence was complete. Long may the boy find the household duties something as new and exciting as the first time he went to the Science Museum so that selfishly I can have a chunk of r'n'r when I return from the labours of the office.

Like father Like son Like son's son

So the blog hesitated for a couple of weeks...life was interupted with the not unexpected death of the grandfather after five weeks in hospital. Pneumonia finally got him, but a decade of Parkinsons had done for him really. The boy's reaction was harsh until it was pointed out that the books he was currently reading were his grandfather's. I guess that the death of a 78 year-old who you barely know, and whose mental faculties were close to those of a five year old, is nothing by comparison to the passing of your mother. However, there can be upsides to death. Not the least of which is the funereal gathering of the relatives. Our family has grown distant over the years...a combination of growing up and growing away, family disagreements and divorced parents and poorly established relationships at a younger age. So the boy has never met most of them...my offer to collect two sisters and a brother for a journey from one end of the country to another put many things right...it's amazing that eight hours of conversation can be sustained with hardly any effort; interupted only by the inconvenience of the cremation procedings and the shedding of a few tears. The great uncle has matured well...and pictures of him in uniform for National Service were impressive. A brother that perished during the Korean War (tho he was in Malaya) were equally valuable in building an honourable ancestory. Tales of youthfulness...and a lovers lane in Hornchurch were eye-opening. The two sisters were equally amusing...especially the one who at the age of 70 has picked up her latest toy boy...and was clearly in for a treat that night.

Promises of meeting again 'soon' will hopefully be fulfilled and will justify the £5 investment in signing up to genesreunited to build the slowly growing family tree.