I’d rather like to stay at home for a bit now, I think.
Saturday, we took Millie to deepest, darkest west London, round to the flat of Balraj, an old friend of mine from university, and his wife, Lois. Also there were a whole bunch of other people I see more or less often, all from London, and all ex- of Wolverhampton University (although, it was just a polytechnic when we all started there).
So a long, long journey there, although fairly straightforward; Millie stayed awake for all of it – unsurprisingly, since she’d had an extra couple of hours sleep that morning, in preparation.
She made a hell of a mess out of a cheese sandwich on the brand-new train from Waterloo. Those two teeth mean she now tears into food, ripping great chunks out of it…only to hit a bit of a bottleneck on the chewing and swallowing front, since she has just two incisors and no molars at all.
Hence, lots of cheese sandwich on the floor of the shiny, clean train.
But we had a lovely time at “Uncle” Bal’s, plenty of food and a bit of catching up (god help us, we even played Screamadelica for that extra bit of nostalgia…).
Then at 6.30, already tired, we left to go to Hatfield, traipsing most of the length of the Piccadilly Line – not our capital’s fastest tube line – to be picked up by car at Cockfoster’s and whisked the short distance to the Lovely Melanie’s parents. Millie straight to bed, her parents not long after.
And all this because next day was Grandma Fisher’s 60th birthday!
All the family went for a delicious lunch at an old manor house near somewhere called Ware. Kristine, the Lovely Melanie’s sister, is in charge there, so we were very well taken care of.
We were a bit shocked to bump into my parents there, too, especially since they live in Swindon! But they’d been invited, and decided to travel across for the event – surely not because their one and only granddaughter would also be there…? 😉
I took loads of photos and will put some up when I have a spare moment (so don’t hold your breath…)
We were glad to finally stagger back through our own front door at about 7.30, and tried not to think that we were heading off again – this time to Swindon – in just five days.
Still, the journey home was made a lot more fun by Millie been miraculously wide-awake and chattering the whole way home. Just chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter.
ometimes out loud, sometimes under her breath, sometime to one of us, sometimes to thin air: just streams and stream of nonsense syllables, but sounding oh-so close to actual coherent talk, not least because there was a lot of intonation in them: questions, requests, answers, explanations – it really sounded as though we could have had a proper conversation, if only we understood “Millays” – the dialect of Millie.