I gave Auntie a ring today, and interrupted her and Mark’s mum having a girls’ get-together at some place in Cheshire. They seemed to be having a great time, and I could hear Mark’s mum laughing in the background.
It was clear that both ladies had taken more than one glass of wine before that call. They’ve set aside the whole weekend for just the two of them. No men allowed. Now I’m wondering what Mark’s dad is doing. Probably down at the pub with the lads, happy that the missus is out of his hair for a bit. 🙂
Auntie’s tenant, the one that moved into my old flat, has been given notice because she failed to pay the rent for two months now, so Auntie is back to trying to rent it out. Auntie is fairly hard when it comes to business. I’ve seen her, and she’s so different from normally. In fact, she reminds me of mum then. Mum is like that too. I don’t know what’s with the women in my family – they’re hard as flint.
Auntie’s daughter, my lesbian cousin, is getting married too. Well, civil partnered. Auntie joked that if we could had the nuptials together, she’d be able to save a mint. My cousin and her girlfriend wants a winter wedding, so this will happen this December. Mine and Mark’s is next year.
About my parents – again. This age I’m in is supposed to be all about rage and revolt, and I’m supposed to break every rule and be as obnoxious as possible. Well, according to the clichés anyway. I was watching American Pie when I thought about this, and while American Pie is as far from high brow stuff that make you think anything else than ‘christ this is so awful’ it did make me think that maybe I’ve never had my teenage revolt because there’s nothing to revolt against.
I think it was my mum’s visit today that made me think that. Despite the lectures when I asked her for a loan, it never seems as if she’s hellbent on moulding me into what she wants. And I’ve often thought that dad will do what he must do, but not more. And that he will do what he must do, because it would look bad if he didn’t. The office chit-chat would sour for him. There would be rumours and innuendo. So, he does what he has to for me.
While I knew that mum would work on her research papers this month, I sometimes wonder if she could have spent more time with me but chose not to. She works on research papers every summer because scientists need to publish, and you only stay a paid scientist if you continually publish. But I’ve also been away for a year, and maybe I’m selfish but I would like to see more of her. Poor little mama’s boy, huh? I should grow up.
On a happier note, I have wine again. Mum brought some over, and me and Mark have cracked open a bottle, and me and Mark can sit here and coo on the veranda in the heat while the cows chew in the patch next to our cottage, and while the flies are buzzing around the cows making them whip their tails about like crazy.
It’s such a conflicting image; the serene sight of the chewing contrasted with the almost frenzied tail-whipping. And I have the best pillow in the world, which is Mark, while he’s reading some science-book and chasing hover flies out of his wine.
I love this moment, and I don’t want it to end. The sky is pink at the horizon. The sun has just disappeared behind it. It is warm, and it smells of mowed grass and cow-dung. Could my world be a prettier and nicer place? Really? Sometimes I think I am too spoilt to whine like I do sometimes.