When I say it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster the last two days then that may well be the understatement of the decade! For a start I will have to change my profile pic here as no-one would actually recognise me anymore – mainly because I had a minor but significant brainstorm last thursday and had my hair cut quite radically by my lovely but somewhat over-zealous hairdresser Rachel (I only asked for a dry trim to eradicate my growing problem with split-ends). It is now “dorty furr” as we on this tiny little island with a penchant for corrupting the Queen’s English and making up our own words would poetically put it. Not blonde ( which wasn’t my natural colour anyway…could you tell??!!) and neither long nor elegantly waved! To be honest – I’m not even sure if I like it yet and although it has garnered favourable comments from several quarters there isn’t even a hint of curl, and I feel quite naked without my flowing tresses – rather like Samson must have felt when that wicked floozie Delilah got him three sheets to the wind and attacked him with the scissors! I feel an acute loss of power and a distinct lack of allure to boot. It has been cut in a choppy, ‘wash and wear’ modern style and now my various hair clips, girly scrunchies and numerous coloured elastic bands lie alone, forlorn and redundant in a the deepest recesses of a drawer! Like me, it is short and unlike me straight to the point. I may yet run screaming for the industrial strength hair mousse and braun styling brush circa 1980 – or at least Coiffeur Counselling, but we shall see.
Anyway – back to the weekend. Have I mentioned that my gorgeous sister Vicki (size 8-10 in jeans from Paco I discovered….sickening!) was visiting from Cheltenham last week? Well, she had brought her daughters, my two beautiful nieces, Indigo 9 and Maia 7 all the way from sunny Gloucestershire to delight their doting Grandparents, raise morale and generally entertain and inform the culchie troops back home. Naturally there then ensued complete familial mayhem – at fever and ear-splitting pitch – as the girls reconnected with all four of their cousins both urbanite and ruralian, in the idyllic surroundings of my parents beautiful and immaculate home and garden nestled in the Dromara Hills deep in the County Down countryside. On friday, the day before they were due to fly home, we were cordially invited to The Fisher Family home (a.k.a. my sister Alex, her partner Richard and their two adorable children Amber aged 5 and Marco, 1 this month) who reside in the opulence of Mount Pleasant a posh enclave of “Strenmillis” to join the rest of the family for a farewell to Vicki and the Girls barbeque – before the Butcher family caught the flight back home to the loving and relieved arms of my brother-in-law Chris (who couldn’t join us because of work commitments. ) Anyway, the meal was delicious, the wine flowed freely, the ambience predictably loud and explosively colourful as Beth (12) Adam (10), Indi (9), Maia (7), Amber and Freya both 5 and Marco 11 months ran amok, in and out of various rooms causing havoc in their wake (how do parents tune that cacophony out?!!) and altogether the craic was mighty. When we were all replete and several in our number distinctly squiffy, the adults relaxed and chatted in the Conservatory and the mums swapped amusing stories concerning the correct time to tell their children the facts of life, before one of their friends at school furnished them with the vital details of sexual intimacy and the complex issue of “where babies come from” to entertain the rest of us . My personal favourite anecdote was when Alex related the story of Amber arriving in one day recently, demanding to know what a “BJ” was. As her eldest is blessed with a somewhat precocious personality and is known to have older friends amongst their neighbours not averse to educating the younger ones, Alex was understandably slightly unnerved by this enquiry. After several failed attempts to dissuade and distract her small daughter from pursuing the subject – her mother finally in desperation and not without trepidation gave in and asked her to put it in a sentence. Tossing her white blonde curls and rolling her huge blue eyes in impatience she then informed her that “Grandma has one in her bathroom” and she realised with a tidal-wave of relief that she meant a bidet! I laughed so hard I thought I would choke….hilarious! All in all it was a great day, and early evening before we extricated ourselves and said our regretful au revoirs to Vix, Indi and Maia who were staying with Alex overnight so they could get a lift to the City Airport the next day.
John and I were staying overnight with my other sister Kate and her family who live up the road from my parents (she and Alan have Beth and Adam) on friday night as he had been asked to do a Fashion Shoot at Beth’s birthday party the following day which was to have a Super Model theme!!! At 3pm on saturday afternoon four quiet, polite little ex-P7 classmates, Megan, Melissa, Morgyn and Diana appeared at the door and promptly scurried down the hall and into Beth’s bedroom. Half an hour later there strutted out five self-assured, confident Scarlett Jagger wannabe Divas in full makeup, heels, a hot pink long scarf, a feather boa, a straw hat, a pair of Nicole Ritchie sunnies and varying eclectic styles of clothing including a bathing costume and a bubble gum pink tutu!!! (I had hoped that they would allow me the job of Makeup artist – but no I was politely but firmly assured as they closed the door – they could manage. Boy, did they manage!) They posed in front of the mirror, on a chair at the door, on a fence outside, a very fetching Group Shot on the livingroom windowsill, by the Pergola in the back garden against a backdrop of flowers – and finally beside the old Playhouse Wall with Beth’s cute but vaguely homicidal and very pissed off rabbit, Mischief as an extremely reluctant furry prop, and by the end of the afternoon the very picture of a hot cross bunny! Their “party bags” per se will be A4 glossy shots of themselves when they are printed.
Beth’s Dad Alan then cooked barbeque and we made some salads, crudites and dips with crisps and the usual sundries. Their parents all arrived to join the melee later, the wine was opened and the party atmosphere continued until well after 11 o’clock despite the fact that we had then been joined by various younger sisters some as young as six and four. I headed to bed about 10.30 as I can’t keep up with the way these Country people party!!! I was exhausted and still had to find energy for the red-letter day that followed……….
2 August 2010
Debbie Larmour - Storyteller 