I’ve spent some time over the last few days trying to coordinate family visits. The Southern branch of the family, our son and wife and child, will arrive on the Saturday before Christmas (21st December). At that point the “elves”, aka the three youngest grandchildren, will decorate my tree for me. It might have well been put up and decked with lights but the main decorating will wait until we have the three children together. This will be a flying visit as they want to be in their own house for Christmas Day and need to have Christmas Eve to get themselves organised.
Coincidentally, my Spanish sister is arriving on the Friday (20th December) with five members of her family. They are not staying here, but renting a house in Southport, where we grew up. As my son and family are on a flying visit, I had almost given up on the idea of seeing my Spanish sister until after the Southern Branch of the family had departed - Granddaughter Number Two proposed driving over to Southport on Monday 23rd. Granddaughter Number One wailed in protest as she is working that day.
Then my Spanish niece protested that she really wants to see her cousin (my son) as she’s not seen him for at least a decade or more. And she wants to meet his family, etc, etc. Of course, she also wants to see her other cousin (my daughter) and already knows that my daughter’s children and her own children get on well together. So it was proposed that we should all meet in Manchester, especially as my Spanish niece’s partner has been told that Manchester is a lively, vibrant city - ¡vale la pena visitarla!
Under normal circumstances I would totally agree but Manchester is currently full of Bavarian markets and it’s semi-impossible to move around. Besides, the prospect of finding somewhere in Manchester centre for the large group we were becoming to eat was quite daunting.
So I’ve been phoning and messaging the various family groups. Solution: on Sunday 22nd the Spanish contingent will catch a quite early train to Manchester, have a look around and then catch a tram to Oldham, where someone in the family will collect them. And I have successfully booked us into an Italian restaurant must around the corner from our house for the early afternoon. Job done! It’s been a little like herding cats!
On the subject of cats, Granddaughter Number One has added a new kitten to her menagerie of pets. So far the kitten has climbed her Christmas tree, sat in the bathtub trying to catch the drips from a tap, sat likewise in the washbasin, and this morning fell into the toilet!
And now I feel quite guilty and first-world privileged, going on about Christmas when so much of the world is in chaos. It’s strange that the olive branch, that symbol of peace, the sign that Noah’s flood was coming to and end, comes from a tree that is causing major problems in the West Bank, where Palestinians are unable to harvest crops on their own land because Israeli settlers prevent them from doing so. Here’s a link to an article about it. The olive, by the way, is also a symbol of Palestine!
And here’s a relevant cartoon:
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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