Part 3 – Christmas

This is the third entry in Grandma's 1st notebook, dated 24 November 2011. It's also the first time she references who someone is. Perhaps she is beginning to see what she writes as life history.

There's no shopping, no cooking, washing-up or bother with family and relatives when you have Christmas dinner out. Everyone is on their best behaviour and tantrums are few. The cost may be high, but it's worth every penny.

My mother never helped. As a kid, I used to dread Christmas. It was one long moan for my mother from beginning to end, right through from October to February. Mother's mum, my nan, did her best and would chide her in a way that only mothers can. No, for my mother it was always 'a palaver'. 

How I wanted Christmas away from her, but it never happened. I had endure sixty-five of them. I used to make sure that I sat as far away from her as I could wherever we were. There would always be that moment. You know the one, when a room or a place is full of hubbub and, for a split second, all goes quiet, as if every voice in the room has synchronised ― except for one that would rise above the crowd. It would always be my mother complaining about something.

Perhaps that's why I got together with Tyrone. On our second date in middle of the summer he apologised that he wouldn't be about during December, as he would be working flat out day and night. He was a waiter, so I assumed he meant the Le Hen Bistro, where he worked. Without thinking I replied ‘That's OK. I'll come and have dinner at the Bistro’. He looked at me and said 'Really?' 

'Yes, that's that settled… now what are we having?' and I went back to the menu.

What I didn't tell Tyrone at the time was that I had already made up my mind that I was going to bring my family, what there was of it then. But then neither did he tell me at the time that our visit to 'The Little Frog' restaurant in the Jewellery Quarter wasn't because he wanted to show me 'a good time', it was because he was checking out a new competitor for his boss.

That first Christmas with Tyrone was wonderful, By then we were a proper item and with him working every Christmas it just seemed logical to book a table and join him. After we divorced, the arrangement continued. Liz, his new partner, worked alongside him and from the age of thirteen, Tom was always helping his Dad in some way.

I can’t say that I enjoyed it, but everyone else did. They all saw me as the reason why Tyrone ended up with Liz. After coming to Scarborough and moving in with Mabs, I took the opportunity to end 'the tradition' which had continued even when my Gerry arrived on the scene.

There have been a few half-hearted invites from Ellie my daughter to re-join, but  I've always said 'no'. They mean well, but I've really enjoyed being just being with Mabs and, of late, Joe as well.  This year though, we look set for an 'invasion' of sorts.

First, it was Mab's fifty year old daughter Marcia who invited herself. Then Angel my grand-daughter and Rod. It seems she’s has fallen out with her mum Lily (who is married to my son Tom). Marcia is on the rebound from a short-lived affair with a man who works in the same building as she does, but for another company. I've known Marcia for ever and she has always had a problem with 'commitment' ― you know the sort ― the one in a relationship who given the slightest sign by the other party that they're interested in more than sex finds an excuse to end the relationship.

Suzi the cat (remember? She came with Joe) is the same. She comes on your lap and you think, 'She seems to be staying longer this time'. Then she's up and off. Then stops, turns around, hoists one of her back legs the air, looks at you and sets about washing her bum. Always the same and so it is Marcia and men.

I love Marcia and enjoy her company. She looks like her mum did at fifty. Round and voluptuous, her cleavage is always on show and she wears bras which are three sizes too small so that her bosoms hang out, like a beer drinker's belly. She has close cropped hair bleached white, with striking black eyebrows over azure eyes and full lips always painted the brightest of reds. Most noticeable though is that fact that for a curvaceous woman she still has a neck. She is witty and loud, intelligent and assertive. Ideally suited to running an engineering design outfit in what is otherwise still a man's world. How this came about is a story in itself.

Marcia readily admits to the commitment thing and says all the time that she would love to settle down with one guy ('guy' isn't a word which comes naturally to me), but she has a bedroom full of mirrors and this is usually enough to ensure there's no second time. Me? I like my privacy. This may come as a surprise to those who only know me because of my job, but thankfully I am becoming less well known by the day and that suits me down to the ground (which reminds me, I must tell Alan, my business partner, that there will be no more talks. I’m going to retire. I really really am).

My grand-daughter Angel has finally got a man. Rod seems nice enough. I think she’s been so busy at the BBC since leaving university that men have been a low priority for her. Going to Manchester as part of the BBC's great move north and buying a 9th floor flat (she says 'apartment') overlooking Salford Docks or what remains of them has obviously been a good thing. She's the only other family member in The Party and she is very much into current affairs. I can see her eventually going into politics. She has all the right contacts.

Thinking about it, the move may be at the root of her and Lily falling out. Her mum didn't mind her being in London, but Manchester is enemy territory as far as any Brummie’s concerned and Lily is one of those through and through. Angel's a great talker, as she showed at mother's funeral.

One thing is for sure, Christmas in Scarborough this year won't be dull. Everything is being bought in, so that Joe has a minimal amount of work to do on the day. With five ladies to look after, he is going to love every minute!

Grandma says nothing more about Christmas 2011 in her notebooks. I remember it well and went again in 2013. In 2012 I spent Christmas with Rod’s family in Nottingham. I never really noticed that she sat as far away from Nanna as she says, but thinking about, she did. She was a contradiction in many ways, a champion of sexual liberation whilst openly vulgar in private when the mood took her. In another notebook Grandma writes about this side of herself, but that's a little way off if I stick to my plan to publish them in date order.

I see Mabs when I can, usually to ask her questions now that I’m reading the notebooks. She clearly likes the opportunity to talk about Grandma, often telling me stories of her own. If I do anything with the notes, I might try and add a few reminiscences from Mabs and Hope, perhaps Alan as well. Maybe Grandad. She was seventeen when they met and they married on her eighteenth birthday. She writes at length about about being a teenager in the 1950s. Right now my intention is show the stories which mention names (they all do) to those named for their permission to use as they are. By the way, Grandma was right about me. No editing, no changing. I wonder what Marcia will say when I ask her?