I Asked My Father

Red Moss & Garter Cowl in Andes Alpaca and Wool for Lynda

When we were small, Lynda lived here and later so did her son, Jonathan.  I lived up the road ....

.... Lynda and myself used to try to travel around the whole block without letting our feet touch the ground by railing or redbrick wall...

.... Once I nearly impaled myself on one of the railing spikes, and Lynda broke her arm doing a cartwheel, but on balance we were pretty invincible... for a long time we and one or two others were the last children of that generation on that road.

Time passed, we all grew up - and one evening Lynda went out with her new baby, Jonathan, on one of their first forays and met my father, whose name was Patrick, out walking our dog, Juno.  My father was delighted to run into them - he was the kind of man to make much of a mother and her new baby. Very shortly afterwards though, my father came home and died of a heart attack.

I wasn't there but I expect Jonathan's childhood was spent on the same roads in much the same way as Lynda's and mine were. I know he did well in school and college, became an international journalist and all-round credit to his mother.

At the beginning of 2012, Jonathan took a trip to India and hasn't been seen since - an awful lot of people care very much about what's become of him. This morning I lit this candle in the church that was local to where we all lived with hope that he's well, as invincible as his mother and myself are, and that he makes contact with home very soon.

Even on a cloudy day

Turqouise GAP-tastic Cowl by Jan Geigley and good vibrations for Angela in Paloma

Angela’s an energeticist,

A perennial optimisticist

- occasionally just a mysticist! -

But boy, she sees the funny side  

And shuns all hint of falseness

Obliging and amenable,

Dependable, unflappable

Courageous, though she’s no one’s fool

Big hearted is her golden rule

Can be taken for granted,

 - though never by me! -

Angela and Hannah,

Are the whole hosanna

Sometimes though it’s quite hard to see

Inter generationally

Which one’s her

And which one’s she

Community

Miss Potter Mittens by Nicola Faull in Sublime DK and Debbie Bliss Angel

For Madeleine, whose hands are never idle

As a first-time mother, one of the few certainties I had was the knowledge that a knock would sound on my door most weekdays soon after 2pm, meaning in a manner comprehensible even to post natal befuddlement that I needed to be up and dressed by then.

And waiting outside, en route to the park, would be Madeleine and Olivia leading a flotilla of buggies, babies, toddlers, wooden trikes and bikes with stabilizers. Perhaps Cathy, Liz, Abigail, Jeannine, Sue, Pat or Anne or any of many others might  be there too, all kitted in an array of either anoraks and boots or sunglasses and sunscreen, depending on the season - some pride was taken in making the trip regardless of external forces such as rain, wind, hail or snow.  Buggy trays were loaded up with changing bags, extra clothing, drinks and Cracottes, and once everyone had been collected, the whole formation would lurch off on its defined purpose.  The playground in the park was more or less the bullseye, where energy was burnt off, new friendships consolidated as well as urges to shove someone off a swing, slide or seesaw fulfilled, while sleep starved mothers speculated on exactly how many spoons of Dozol you could reasonably administer under pressure (...!) (or how many bottles of the stuff you might feel like drinking yourself).  

The wind-down was once round the pond to feed the overfed ducks and then back for tea to someone's - usually Madeleine's - and finger painting, play doh, toy cars and new-fangled videos rented from Metropolis. Often we'd stay on while the children all ate dinner together around 5pm, and by the time that was all over, they were almost ready for bed.  

We - mothers and children - thrived on the ritual which passed the afternoon mostly cheerily and productively - the children learned to socialise and mothers maintained sanity by pooling resources on everything from tantrums to teething, from husbands and local gossip to how to make really good spaghetti with lentils and tomato....  I say “we”, but at the van and rearguard, above, below and beyond, the driver and instigator of this vital community was Madeleine, an intuitive and tireless organizer and all- round good egg .  I'm delighted to say also that after almost 30 years, she's still a very great friend too.

And from this seemingly inconsequential daily trip, a whole panacea of friendships and shared interests developed, spanning generations and incorporating swapped baby-sitting sessions, formed committees, organised parties and in general  promoting the beauty of mutual arrangements, where nobody is hard-done-by and everyone comes out a winner.