Mum's Family

This week, this Blog has generated one of its little surprises again ...!  Out of the blue I received a comment from a cousin in Australia.  She was enjoying reading the posts and discovering things about her Aunt (my Mum) that she hadn't known about before.

We connected on Facebook and starting chatting.  Last time I saw Robyn (shown here with her mother Lyn), she was literally a baby and I a young boy - living in Johannesburg.

A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then and it was lovely to chat to a family member who had, for so long, been merely a name in a letter.  A fleeting discussion around a family table.

What I found interesting was that Robyn was unaware of some of the family members, their history and families.  I found myself wondering how much of the family I have 'missed' ... and what stories myself & my Mum have never heard.

So, I thought I'd put a few names & faces down.  Particularly with the LUEN family - my mother's side of the family. Maybe it will generate some further commentary...


My maternal grandparents were Charles & Gladys Luen.  Charles was born in Belfast and, from what I can gather, had experienced a very, very tough childhood.

As a poor, scruffy child roaming the streets of Belfast's less salubrious areas, he had been welcomed-in by the Salvation Army. They gave him some warm food, taught him to play a brass instrument ... and at one point gave him a bright red jumper with the Salvation Army logo on the front.  The first new item of clothing he had ever owned!

His mother was, as I understand it, a rather hard-line Catholic. She beat him up, tore off the jumper and burned it - in her eyes it represented some sort of devil worshipping organisation!

So, he was clearly a young man with a difficult background.  As soon as he was able to, he left 'the Troubles' behind him in Belfast and hot-footed it over to England.

Somehow he managed to end up in Luton, a town just North of central London (although probably considered way out in the countryside in those days..!).  Here he managed to 'snare' the lovely Gladys Gurney.  My grandmother was a rather mollycoddled child by all accounts. Even in her later years she would often 'take to her bed' with some malaise or other...!

She was clearly a very innocent young lady and not used to the wicked ways of the world.  Of course Charles, his 'luck of the Irish' and an incredible ability to spin silvery words, like some wandering troubadour, was charming, good looking, romantic and very funny.

He was also smart - he claimed to have wooed her in the local cemetery - as it was very quiet and not frequented by many passers by!  It wasn't long before there was a flurry of activity - and a wedding - and pretty soon they started on the first of what would eventually be six children.

There's was not an easy life in Luton - Charles was a 'Painter & Decorator' and they lived in a small terraced house with an outside toilet and very little to ease the difficulties of the 1930's British working-class.

With the outbreak of Word War 2, Charles signed-up and was whisked off to prepare for war.  He fought in the Artillery (the 'big guns') and eventually ended-up on St. Helena.

He never really talked much about his experiences, but as a rather thoughtful, well-read and sensitive soul (self-educated - he was prone to writing poetry), it must have affected him terribly.

By this stage they had six children - Joan (shown here with he mother), Lawrence, Hazel, Olive, Michael and Robert.  Sadly, Olive contracted Whooping Cough as a child and died.  Life was not easy in war-torn Britain.

In getting the soldiers to St. Helena, the ship carrying Charles had docked in South Africa and he discovered a wonderful new land, full of promise and opportunity.

So, as soon as the war was over and Charles had received his papers, he decided to leave the cold and brutal post-war Britain and set off to build a new life for his family.  He left them behind for a time while he found employment and set up a home.

My Mum talks about how they left England, waving farewell to grandparents, aunts & uncles (who would never see Charles & Gladys again) and the family set off on a boat to South Africa, where they ended up in the coastal town of Port Elizabeth.

The story goes that Robert, at that time a young boy, when first confronted by a banana (which he had never seen before) tried to open it by using a pencil-sharpener...!

Gives some idea of how tough their lives had been up till then.

The family settled and flourished in a much warmer climate, with (comparatively) larger homes, better food and access to paid employment.  Such things were in short supply in Britain in the late 40's and 50's.

Having said that, life could be cruel.  Mum's sister Joan left school, married and was pregnant with her first child (Arthur - now lives in the USA).  Her husband owned a motorcycle and, one particular week, offered Lawrence (seen here) a lift to visit a girlfriend.

She was Afrikaans and her father, like many of his generation, hated the English ('Rooinekke' - red necks) as a result of the bitterness after the Anglo-Boer War.  He had tried to separate the young lovers (which he admitted he regretted afterwards).

Unfortunately a truck driver, overtaking a vehicle on the 'wrong' side of the road, was not watching the road and the resulting accident killed both men.  A terrible sadness for a family - Joan losing a husband and a brother; Arthur a father he would never know.

Nonetheless, the family prospered and built a decent life for themselves.  In the picture below we can see Charles & Gladys on their verandah, with son Michael and my Mum Hazel.

 Mum left school in South Africa after a number of pointless years trying to master the language Afrikaans.  60 years later she is able to master some of its basics, but she was never going to need the language.

Her art training however, set her on course to work as a Commercial Artist and Window-dresser, which is where she later met my Dad  (more on the inter-office shenanigans later!).

 In the meantime, her elder sister re-married and entered the Salvation Army ministry.  Both she and her husband William eventually reached the rank of Major and worked tirelessly running homes for boys (with family difficulties), men (who had fallen on hard times) and even a hotel in Cape Town for some years ... which catered to Salvation Army families and those they help.

To this day I am a soft-touch for the ladies with their collection tins when the Brass Band plays in town around Christmas time...!

Brother Michael, the dark-haired young buck, rocking a a bit of an Elvis look in the family photo above, followed his Dad into the Painting & Decorating trade.

Some years ago I visited Michael in Port Elizabeth where he lived for the rest of his life (sadly he passed away not that long ago).  He was thrilled to catch up on old times and chat about my Mum and how she was doing in England again...!

The youngest of the bunch - and Robyn's father - was Robert (of the banana fame).  It must have been really difficult for him as, being the youngest, he would have had to make much more of a change.  In any event, he became a bit of a tearaway and I think his schooling suffered as a result.

He was, as I recall, a bit of a Beach Boy - surfer, sun-worshipper.  In his time he has been a construction worker, a chef, a butcher, a fisherman ......  You get the picture, he was a bit of a rambling man!

When I was still very young Robert met his wife-to-be Lyn.  I have vague memories of them visiting us in Cape Town (pictured here with my Mum) and Johannesburg, where he would strap young Robyn onto his back and drive out to visit us on his motorcycle, usually early on a Sunday.

He would sometimes bake fresh bread and loved our swimming pool (where I remember him dousing baby Robyn .... she learned to swim pretty quickly!).

Well, fast forward 40 years and Robert & Lyn live in deepest Australia (Geraldton I think?), his children are now all grown up and have their own children.  And, I'm sure, their own stories...!

I shall endeavour to add to these stories over time - and add some of the stories from other members of the family.  I'll close though, by including a telling picture from Mum's letters..... as we're discussing families - and the origin of (my own) species...!

Absent Friends

So, here I am sitting at the iMac, innocently doing my thing when suddenly a post pops-up on Facebook - from a wonderful lady and very good friend, who sadly passed away a few years back.

Not written by her, clearly ... her account is maintained by her daughters and every so often, a message 'pings' into my inbox - perhaps when one of her family are missing her, or when they post a photograph of her to keep her little face fresh in our minds.

Mo (Maureen) Pithey was a truly magnificent lady.


A towering force in the South African Newspaper industry, she wrote on any number of issues, but specialised (at least when I knew her) in Women and Teenager issues.  I worked with her on a number of events (Red Nose Day, Miss Rave [Teen] Shows, Fashion Shows, etc) and we became good mates.


Her smile was the most wonderful source of light and joy, crinkling her face and squeezing her eyes together in genuine pleasure; her raucous laughter, cackling down the corridors of 'Newspaper Power', mischievous eyes never missing a trick; her wicked ability to manipulate the South African Gay patois to skewer annoying fellow journalists, or officious people in power .... I loved her.

Through Mo, I was introduced to a whole world of fabulous, wonderful people - journalists, models, show producers, drag queens, dancers, photographers, agents, gymnasts, acrobats, circus performers, magicians and comedians, of every shade, religion, background, sexual persuasion and culture.

She opened my eyes to this magnificent smorgasbord of a world we inhabit.

I remember very fondly various occasions where we would be riding the wave of mayhem and madness - perhaps a marquee that had been torn apart and blown away in a major storm, requiring a last-minute change of venue for a Fashion Show ....

.... or the time we discovered that the 'teenager' who had arrived as a finalist in a 14-16 year old Teen Show - was actually an early 20's adult who had left the hotel where the group were staying and was drinking & carousing up a storm in the nightclubs of Cape Town (not the girl below - she won Miss Rave and was a lovely girl. Gorgeous too!).

Hiiiiilda Girl ! ... she would scream, cackling with laughter once we sorted things out, crinkling her eyes through the smoke, or settling down over a coffee to dissect the evening's events in gloriously funny detail.  The photo below shows her sitting next to me as we judged some event - probably a Miss Rave (teen) qualifier ... along with the sponsor and a local DJ.

This morning I was slowly getting into the Sunday groover when marvellous Mo suddenly popped into frame and, once again, made me smile and laugh .... she's able to brighten my day even when she's no longer with us.  She and I were in contact in 2010/11 when she was starting to plan her (and husband Doug) move to the UK.  Sadly, she never made it (although I still see Doug - and daughter Bodine - every so often), but her spirit is as strong as ever.

And, as ever. Mo reminds me of the important things in life .... don't sweat the small things, but make sure you cover the big ones.  Take a moment to remember absent friends every so often - you'll find it makes your troubles seem so much easier to deal with!

I'll close with the words I wrote to Mo (or 'Mumsy' as some of us were fortunate enough to be permitted to call her) when I heard of her passing.

I shall miss your laugh Mumsy.

Thank you for your friendship and that wry sense of the ridiculous.

The world really does seem a slightly less interesting place without you.

Be gentle with them up there.....

xxxxxxx

Everyone deserves to be Happy...?

So, another day, another dollar ... as the saying goes.  The carnage still continues in the Middle East, Eastern Ukraine, etc, etc; the world watches and the politicians talk about talking ....

I do feel so sorry for the poor people caught-up in it all.

And yet, for many of us, life continues pretty much un-affected (so far) and we fight our various little battles every day - some wins, some losses, mostly we just keep battling.  And yet, occasionally, we are faced with moments of real happiness.

So I thought I'd focus on one of those and highlight some of the sunshine in my life, rather than the shade....!

Those who know me, will know that I have a sister who lives in Australia.  She will always be 'my little sister' and I'll always love her.

However, it is fair to say that, after a very difficult divorce, as well as some other family disagreements, our relationship is now best described as 'estranged'.

Very sad, but unfortunately that is sometimes the way of it.  Things happen and we all react in different ways.

Any divorce is tough, even the most civil and 'friendly' (such as my own).  I do not judge.

Having seen friends go through this experience a number of times, my own concern was always for the children - often the victims in these situations.

To be fair to Harry, my ex- brother-in-law, he does seem to have done that and all three of their children are growing into lovely young people.  And as they progress with their own lives, Harry has moved on as well.

Like me, he has also been challenged by cancer - in his case a very severe strain that affected his mouth and throat - the same variant that affected Michael Douglas (although he was at pains to point out that he had not contracted it in the same manner the Mr Douglas had claimed...!!!).

Throughout the last months of pain, illness, trepidation and treatment, Harry has been supported by his three children and his new partner Nadja and, after the 'all clear' several weeks back, they were married this past weekend.

No matter what had happened before that, this was something for them (and us) to be happy about.

And, to be fair to my Mum, she is a simple soul and not one to bear grudges, or stay angry.  She is thrilled to have contact with her grandchildren and to know that they are well and happy.

So, the day before the wedding, we called Harry on Face Time (sorry Skype-lovers..!) and had a face-to-face chat with the groom-to-be.  In fact I had spoken to Harry and the two boys the evening before, but they were still asleep at this early time in the morning - as Harold prepared his speech!

No matter, we were able to thank him for the contact with the children and wish him well with his new wife, her two daughters and his own three children.

And Mum got to bury a few hurts from the past few years - and personally thank the father of her grandchildren for bringing up such lovely young people.

Genuinely, a small, but significant ray of sunshine in this time of sadness and worry for so many.

And, in a salute to our family 'Down Under', some photos from the ceremony.

With the bride, her daughters and mother is my niece Sarah (bottom right) also looking beautiful.

And below, with the groom (centre) are my two nephews Taylor and Graeme. All splendidly turned-out in their dark suits and yellow ties (& socks!).

Well done guys!

So, how about we all take a moment to find the things we can be happy about - on our own behalf, or on behalf of people we love.

Harry and Nadja - Congratulations and I wish you long life and much happiness.

And to Taylor, Graeme and Sarah, we all love you and we're glad you were able to enjoy some fun and laughter.

Life can be tough, so grab the good times when you can.....

What a tangled web we weave...

Like many people, I have been battling with an onslaught of images, statements, news clips, twitter feeds and all sorts of other media - all fighting to tell/show/explain the horrors of what is happening around the world.

It doesn't really matter where you look - Nigerian schoolgirls being abducted by the Boko Haram fighters (read 'lunatic/terrorists'), the absolute devastation that is currently taking place in Syria - really the stuff of nightmares, Iraq and Afghanistan, the ISIS atrocities, the murder of almost 300 innocent passengers in a plane over Ukraine - by the (so- called) pro-Russian Separatists - and the nightmare that is Palestine and Israel.

It is as if the Nostradamus predictions are being played-out in grisly, blood-spattered detail across our ravaged world.

I can remember being a young man at school, studying History and learning about the Anglo-Boer War, the two World Wars and any number of South African Battles between colonists, Boers and native Black South Africans (Blood River, etc).  They never really made us understand the horror and awfulness of it. For most guys my age, the first time they really understood ... was when the Apartheid government packed them off to fight on 'the border' - against the 'terrorists'.

Suddenly they (on both sides) came face-to-face with death, blood, pain, fear and indescribable, injury-filled 'real' nightmares.  In my own case, it was seeing a blood-soaked baby 'stroller' in the aftermath of the notorious Pretoria bomb (1983) and talking to an 18-year old army conscript who was collecting small body parts in a shoe box...!

And let's be clear - the main reason they all fought, feared, fell and died, was not, as we were all told, to defend the country, our families, our lives ..... it was to feed the voracious appetites of the political classes.  One side wanted to rule, the other side didn't want to give it up.

I realise that there is much more to it than that, much more complex arguments, the excrement that was the Apartheid system, international finance, etc, but the thing is, when you leave people to themselves, they tend to rub along OK and essentially, all we want is to be able to live in peace, build a family, a life, a legacy.....

My career has brought me into contact with some of these political classes.  I have never been particularly fond of them - I believe that, in order to be a successful politician (of any denomination), you have to give up your ideals as you walk in the front door, because a successful politician's life is all about compromise.  You WILL have to, at various points in your career, made decisions and support actions that directly contradict what you say you believe in.

So why the rant ....?

What is making me so fed up is watching and listening as the "rabble" take to the airwaves, the TV and social media to pour their outrage into our lives.  But isn't it slightly ironic that this outrage seems to be primarily aimed at Jews  (I do not consider myself a Christian, Muslim, Jew, Buddhist,  or Atheist by the way - I'd like to think they all have something to teach me..!).

To be clear, I am no friend of 'Bibi' Netanyahu and I do not believe the answer in Palestine is simply to continue the bombing.  But let us take a moment to analyse the outrage.  A friend complained yesterday that Sandton (Johannesburg, SA) was brought to gridlock by a 'pro-Palestine' march.  In London on the weekend, the same sort of march trumpeted how many thousands of people had been marching.

But here's the thing I really have a problem with.  People in the march holding posters saying "Hitler was right".  A UK Member of Parliament saying "If I lived in Palestine, I would be sending rockets into Israel" .... ???

Apparently in Gaza right now, only 15% of the population support Hamas, an organisation that is led by portly men living in luxury in Qatar ... you don't have to look far to find the videos online showing them soaking up the sun alongside their swimming pools, eating and drinking and enjoying life while the real Gaza population are bombed out of existence.

And, for the record, FAR more Muslims are killed by other Muslims each year, than Israel or "the Jews" can be held responsible for.

Where is the outrage at the carnage that is being waged on innocent Muslims - by other Muslims - in Syria. Or Iraq.
Or the Russian FSB killers that have been 'blooded' in Chechnya and now control the fighting in Ukraine..?
Or the outrageous acts by ISIS...?  Only today I saw a photograph of four young, pretty women whose throats were cut and they were left in a tangled, bloody mess in a shower cubicle - simply because THEY WERE CHRISTIAN...???

By all means fellow humans, let us roar with outrage and scream at the top of our lungs for the Political classes to listen and change things before they spiral so far out of control that no-one can control them (I believe this is already the case in the Ukraine) .... but let us be fair and even-handed with our outrage.

"The Jews" are not responsible for this carnage. Neither were the 'white South Africans', or 'black terrorists'. Nor are the Shia or Sunni Muslims, or Christians, simply because of their faith.

People are responsible.  Greedy, murderous, self-righteous, fanatic, lunatic people.

For the rest of us, I suggest we follow my Mum's wise words ............ just LOVE each other.

Taking Stock ...

Sometimes it is important to sit back and take stock.  Of your life, of the people you love, of the world in general and your little slice of it....

Earlier today I read a post on the blog of a friend of mine.  She has decided to stop writing her blog (as it is) and take a break and will start a new blog when she is ready.  I took a moment to scan through some of her updates over the past years - happiness, sadness, joy & laughter, family celebrations, remembering those who have passed away.... it was a capsule of her life over a number of years.  And boy, has it changed!  Good luck my friend in the new chapter...!

So, it set me to thinking.  Here I am now, sitting in a well-known Cafe in Windsor, sipping on a Latte, browsing the web on my iPad.  Very Metro-sexual, urban, man about town.

About 10 years ago I remember writing an email to my folks, using my laptop connected to my Nokia 'Communicator'. 

I was sitting on a train as I headed from London to Birmingham for a business trip - so impressed with the advance in technology .... with all it's intermittent jumps and starts, limited bandwidth (heaven forbid I wanted to download a photograph) and dodgy cell coverage.

And in the 90's (1997?) I remember sitting in my office in Cape Town, talking to my father who was in Greyton, marvelling that I was watching a live feed from the Mars Rover (on Mars..!), via a series of satellites, computers in the US and technology all over the globe....  

How my Dad would have loved the technology of today.  How much it has changed in the 35 years since I left school, full of the boundless optimism of youth, ready to grab life and squeeze every last drop out of it, like some big, juicy lemon.  

I had no idea what to expect ... as, I expect, was the case with all of my fellow school-leavers.

Over the years I have watched them (some of them) as their lives unfolded in all sorts of unexpected ways.  One of my best friends (we'll come back to her in later blogs) was told she would "never amount to much" by a teacher.  She is a millionaire business-owner, wife and mother now (and a very good friend).

Another really close friend was a real health & fitness guy, always running, playing sport, eating healthily ... he died before he even reached 30.  Very sad.  I've watched and (hopefully) helped with a shoulder to cry on - as various friends suffered marriage breakdowns, mental health problems, depression and any number of other life-altering experiences.  As I have myself.

One school friend - a lovely, lovely woman in every sense of the word - was communicating with me (technology again) as we both fought cancer.  I was lucky - her family still suffer the huge loss she left behind.  Bon voyage Helen, you were the very best of us all.

So - if I take the moment to look at my life now and how it has changed over the 35 years since I left school - I am amazed.  At the luck I have had, the wonderful people I have met and who have so enriched my life; my Mum (and Dad, bless him), my wife & family, career and material success, the ability to participate in this fantastic technology....  I really can't complain.

I am but one apple in the orchard, but I have been so lucky and I am so grateful for it all.

Memories

This week has been poignant - it would have been Dad's 82nd birthday if he had still been with us.  It is a more pleasant anniversary to remember than that of his death, but it still brings some heartache and sadness.

Nonetheless, it is an opportunity to revisit some memories and perhaps a chance to smile at some of his 'specialness'.  Not just to us, his immediate family, but to many others whose lives he touched.

My earliest memories of the man who was (like almost every other little boy) my hero.  The dark hair, the smile when he picked me up in his arms (which he could do when I was a kid - not so much in later years...!), the smell of Dad - bringing with it the familiar feelings of protection, trust, warmth ....

Consider the cool-looking dude with his son sitting on his VW Beetle.  Not a particularly flash motor by current standards I'll grant you, but not bad for the boy from East London (South Africa), who dragged himself up from an extremely modest background.
His mother was abandoned by her feckless husband - I will not tire you with his story, sufficient to say that he was abusive to wife and children; a loser whose father wrote of him that he was "a scoundrel, a cad ...".


Dad's education with the Christian Brothers that was cut short by a need to start earning money by the time he was 15 ... and he didn't stop until he was well into his 50's.


The happy little boy staring out of the photo quickly grew into a real 'man about town'.

He took up Ballroom Dancing to strengthen a damaged ankle and became really quite good - winning numerous championships (the winner's certificates long since destroyed).

By the time I was in a position to understand things properly, he had risen to the heady heights of 'Toys & Stationery Buyer' for a national retail chain.

In the 70's, that was quite significant, as depicted in the photo where he relaxes in a 1st-Class window seat on a national airline carrier, probably BOAC.

Note the space .... anyone seen seats like that recently on an international flight...?


Later, as I was finishing my schooling, Dad was appointed Director at Pick 'n Pay (South Africa's principle retailer) and General Manager of a number of their Hypermarkets.


The cowboy hat was a result of some themed-celebration - he is in the process of toasting their success...!

It was there that he picked-out his Mercedes Benz - an E-Class, deep green and the love of his (motoring) life ...!  It appears in many of Mum's drawings.

After some 40 years of hard work - and any number of ups & downs - he retired - and he & Mum moved down to the coast, where he had built the first of two houses he would personally 'oversee' (see earlier Blog).

He took up carpentry, worked on his golf and became master of 'Rosebud' ... the bulldog!  Well, to be honest, I'm not sure who was the boss, but he loved her like a child and was devastated when she died (cancer I think).

During this time, Dad makes a number of appearances in Mum's letters ..... 

Golf ...?

...... Gardening... 

He was, as I remember him, at his most happy and content when he lived in Greyton.  This picture was taken at his 70th birthday celebration - at one of the little restaurants in the village - surrounded by his friends and family.  And a bottle or two of wine...!

Life in Greyton was very quiet, 'laid-back' and relaxing (unless it had to do with the issue of water).  Fresh water was (still is!) routed through the village by a system of small canals ("lei water").  Each property has a designated time when they should open their own sluice-gate and allow the water to fill their pond, water their garden, etc.

Turns out this was a much abused system (especially by the 'tourists' from outside the village) and was the cause of many an argument.  Dad became a Water Warden for a while, but we were all glad when he stood down, in fear that some 'Vaalie' may actually come to bodily harm...!


I think it was 2009 when we eventually moved Mum & Dad to the UK, so we could take care of him as his disease started to rob him of his abilities.  I may return to the subject of Alzheimers and Parkinson's Disease later, but it was not an easy time for him.

I will close with a snapshot of him .... with his son, daughter and wife, in the beautiful surroundings of Saville Gardens, outside London.  It was the last time he was really able to understand that we were all together and the happiness is just visible amid the confusion and frightening frustration that was to become the prison of his mind for the next two years.

So long Dad.  We miss you.

Nature

So, welcome to Summer.  Despite the South African view of England as a land of rain and grey clouds, it is at its very best when the sun shines and the countryside is bursting with blooms, blossoms and birds; lovely green arches made of Oak and Horse Chestnut trees, butterflies flitting around traditional 'English Country Gardens' .... it really is beautiful.

And it brings to mind the cycle of life and our own (human) place in this world of ours.  Like the plants and the insects, us humans have our time - our Spring, when we're just emerging like juicy little shoots, drinking up the life-giving sap and Summer, this glorious stage when we're full of colour, life bursting out of every available space.

Then Autumn, when we're supposed to enjoy the 'Autumn of our lives' - all golds, browns, oranges, reds, ... full of flavour and richness; and Winter, our final years when things slow down, life becomes so much harder and eventually flowers shrivel up and die, dropping off to enrich the soil for future generations...!

My Mum, like so many other mothers, is finely attuned to Nature's glorious cycles - she is a gardener with green fingers, able to grow almost anything, given some time, a pot and sufficient water and sunshine...!

And, as you have seen, my love of animals came from her.


One of my favourite drawings of hers is this study of a small, blue bird.  It is wonderfully intricate yet simple - something that only someone who has really studied birds could do.  She instils trust in them, so they are comfortable in her presence and therefore she is able to sit, study and draw them...!

This drawing is also special because it reminds me of a phrase that was made popular by (I think) the Goons, during their very popular radio comedy shows .... "the Bluebird of Happiness" ..!

During the past few weeks I have had conversations with two very good friends of mine, both single mothers and both have a daughter in late teens/early 20's.  Both have announced that they are pregnant...!  So, both Mums were in shock, worried how this momentous event will affect their daughters lives and how will they get through such a huge blow to the lives they had imagined for them.

I am genuinely aware of the feelings that this 'surprise' generates, but with the benefit of age and (hopefully) some wisdom, I can see past these concerns - and I am truly happy for both of my friends - and their respective daughters.

I know the rules of political correctness and I understand the importance of women being able to choose an education, a career and stay 'in control of their own bodies'.  However, I also know that, between late teens and late 20's, a woman's body is at its peak in terms of falling pregnant and giving birth.  It's their Spring ... as Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote:



"In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast;
In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;

In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove;
In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love."


Both my friends are magnificent women; strong, caring, loving, family-minded and extremely talented (in different ways).  Their daughters, as I have seen, are very much like their Mums - and that is no bad thing.

I shall watch, with interest, amusement and no small measure of love, as they embark on another wonderful journey with their respective daughters and their own, unique journeys ... with all the trials, tribulations, fun, love and laughter that go with it (not to mention the baby clothes shopping sprees....).

And I promise not to use the term 'Granny' ...

..... much!