Tornados and flying embroidery dramas

I'm starting the "Grandma" diet today. My Gran lived to be 83 years old and was never wildly overweight or obese. Which, my doctors tell me I am gradually heading towards at 1kg a year. Gran would eat a scone, lathered with butter, jam and whipped cream with her tea that she had ladled 2 teaspoons of sugar in. Not once a day, but at least ten times a day. Yup, she would touch her cup and say "It's cold, time for another cuppa." Then of course, she needed just a "little taste of something sweet" to eat with the ten cups of tea. Date loaf, ginger bread, chocolate biscuits with a layer of chocolate between the two circles. Gran called them Romany Cremes, but they were nothing like the ones you could buy in the shops. At dinner time she would say "I don't feel hungry at all these days." Well, hungry for real food that is. And that is me, I have very little appetite for real food either. I mentioned this diet to a friend and she said "Well back in those days the cream and butter etc were organic and pure, not like today where they are filled with preservatives." Mmmm yes? I can't remember Gran asking if anything was genetically altered or pure in any way. She bought the ingredients from the store, Hillestads or Maythams etc, and stood at the kitchen table and created yummy goodies. Even dinner with its abundance of vegetables grown in our garden was often wrapped in a healthyish amount of pastry. Cornish pasties, mashed potatoes and Yorkshire puddings were the norm. And yet today I am told to demonise these foods. The other evening I made Yorkshire pudding with our homemade pumpkin soup, just like Grandma used to make. Well, not exactly like she made them because mine flopped and didn't rise as nicely. But they did taste great. And yes, I made the pumpkin soup from an organically grown pumpkin which I was gifted by my son's mother-in-law. She is a dab hand at cultivating a thriving vegetable patch. Me, not so much. I have more of an affinity for fruit trees. My black currant is budding, my strawberries are luxuriating in their Winter coats and the pawpaw trees are a sight to behold.

I watched a clip on Youtube about the cost of buying houses. Fifty years ago a house could be bought with three years worth of a single  salary. Today that same house is 5000% more expensive. (10 to 15 years worth of a double income). I was grinding my teeth in disgust at this injustice when I remembered something else Gran said. In her neighbourhood a family would save all their lives for a deposit on a house. The next generation would buy the house and spend their lifetime paying off the mortgage. And finally the third generation would reap the rewards. Children lived with their parents even after they themselves married and it was a communal affair to get stability for the family. Perhaps I should stop whining and count my blessings? If you factor in inflation, the original house should only have gone up by about 200% and I know for sure that salaries have not kept up anywhere near that rate. Did you see the social experiment with Monopoly? At the start of the game, a coin is tossed and one of the players is announced as the 'winner'. They will earn $200 each time they pass GO, while the other player only gets $100. And then the winner gets to play with two dice instead of the single one the other player gets. This means the winner of the coin toss circles the board at double the rate and picks up their money much faster. As this player sees that they are winning, they become more confident and loud and obnoxious. At the end the winner is asked why they had won the game and not a single one admitted it was because they had received a privilege from the coin toss. They thought it was because they were cleverer or craftier with their buying or opportunities to buy properties or even that they could afford to pay the penalties when they landed on the other properties. Dominance of the so-called lesser man.  My Gran would suggest that the winner had faked it until they made it, but it's more than that. My parents would say that the more you learn, the more you earn. Meaning that if you could afford the cost of a university degree you were more likely to earn, and the higher your salary could potentially be. Well, I suppose that depends on the degree you pursue, but it's called a meritocracy. You are rewarded financially by how much merit your work is worth. Or is it capitalism? At the start of Monopoly we are given an equal amount of money, but in this experiment, the coin toss player got extra money and started at a distinct advantage. Even though the whole thing is supposed to be a game, it isn't really. I remember Christmas visits to the Hillestad family and playing Monopoly while the parentals drank and chatted. My richer cousins were more likely to take wild chances with their purchases, where I was very careful of how and where I spent my money. Yes, they did always win. They thought rich thoughts and I didn't want to chance things and lose it all. Did my cousins grow up to be rich? Were they happier? Nope, not really and many years later, David said to me that he had always thought I would be the success in the family because I looked confident and comfortable in my skin. Aaah thanks David.

I have been luxuriating in good fortune on the family history front. A kind gentleman sent me copies of a family bible going back to 1600's when my 9Xgreatgrandfather lost all his property when King Charles 1 fought with his parliament. (I think he backed the wrong leader) When Jeremy Hillhouse recovered from this disaster, he managed to salvage some of his money and the first thing he bought was a family bible. Jeremy was born in 1630 in Yorkshire. He himself didn't record his family history, but a few generations later, his great grandson, Cowling Ackroyd took the time to fill in the blanks, for which I am supremely grateful. And then Cowling wrote birth dates and death dates and all sorts of little tidbits of information that are available nowhere else. I pored over ancient texts and oohed and aahed and got all giddy with excitement. Aah the things that thrill me are quite weird and strange to most folks. Just when I thought life on the genealogical front had reached its zenith or peaked or whatever. Along comes a portrait of another great grandfather. This one was a tiny painting sold at Christie's auction house in 2011 for more money than I can scrape together in a lifetime. A gorgeous miniature in watercolour painted on ivory and encased in gold. The artist was John Smart. Not someone I had ever heard of before, but who cares, he was great to capture my Edward Penfold in such detail. Blue/Grey/Green eyes that were beautifully recreated. The miniature was 52 mm in height. I've often wondered what the ancestors look like and who I inherit my 'wit' and chutzpah from. Well, now I know a bit more about them and don't have to wish that I was a spiritual medium anymore. No, I never did hope for that particular gift. But yes, my cup is filled to the brim with goodness and stuff. And now I can point to my mother's great grandfather and say "I got my eyes from you." 

What has been happening in my life? Half of my tooth fell out and I'm sure I swallowed it because it is nowhere to be found. I was fortunate because a lovely dentist could take me in and refill my tooth within about an hour of the disaster. It was an incisor and if she had pulled it out, I would have had a gap toothed smile. Not nice. Less than half an hour in the dentist's chair and I went home with no numb mouth and was able to eat my dinner of fried rice.  A tornado hit town last night and ripped off rooves and downed trees and threw rubbish bins up in the air and created havoc in the area. About 200 people were without electricity and no, we were not in the firing line. We got high winds and lots of rain, but otherwise were unaffected. I have been having Maori massages every fortnight and loving it. They are very spiritual and one particular lady tells me that the spirits of my ancestors pop in to see what's happening. One day the door flew open and there was no one there. The masseuse then said "Do you know a man in a mechanic's overalls with one eye?" Which one? My husband? Apparently not. My Dad, yup. He was curious about what I was doing and had popped in for a visit. The other Mirimiri (massage) lady has truly magic hands and even though she doesn't see the spirits of my family around me, she certainly can get rid of aches and pains. But, you know what? Winter is crisping the air and sitting outside in the sunshine is now a military maneuver of layering leggings and socks, jerseys and long sleeves. I have a jersey coat that has never done its job properly. Too thin for Winter, too bulky for Autumn and I have decided to attack it and bring it fighting and kicking back to life by lining it with some bright fabric and simple stitches. Gran would be pleased with my sewing, or maybe not. The whip stitch is a bit too loose.  I remember when my sister, Jane, did Hardanger work. So precise it put my teeth on edge. It was gorgeous, but much too finicky for my ADHD brain. If I ever did embroidery or Hardanger work, it would need to be much faster and simpler. But back to my jersey coat  ..... I used to have a reversible coat back in South Africa and I suppose this is my replacement of it in a much more eclectic mix of colours and fabrics. Stay tuned for if I throw it in the rubbish or actually end up wearing it. At the moment the 'throw it away' impulse is strong. Pray for me. I will need every ounce of patience to complete it without throwing a tantrum. Or as Gran would say "I will give it flying lessons, right out the window and into the rubbish bin." 

Tot siens, good night kind folks and hamba gahle to one and all.