No picture today... Granny, despite complaints about cold, has been sitting in the sun, gently cooking.
Melancholy. Last night it was reported that the wretched Margaret Hassan had been murdered in Iraq (0nly comfort; she was not the mutilated corpse, nor beheaded; just shot. On the other hand there's no press coverage of the Polish woman, the mutilated one; no international cries of distress. Why?) In world of awful things, whether generated by Saddam, or G.Bush, or anyone else, why does one awful thing in particular seem to sum up all the rest? Granny didn't know MH, had barely heard of her before her capture, yet this gratuitous slaughter, by Iraqis, of someone not far off her own age, who spent her life working for Iraqis makes her weep, not to say despair. Haunted face of the husband begging for return of her body, images of his imprisoned, brutalised, terrified wife's lonely last weeks, before her as lonely dying, fill not only granny's head, for sure.
Back to more minor not to say mundane not to say unimportant matters. Running the Attic Woman's Care Home has its problems. Over the weekend no water, TV on the blink. (Chief Carer makes frantic calls to Granny in London, who does her best.) Problems resolved, water should flow from hereon in, but Handsome from Blackburn who deals with such technical things now seems to be upsetting carers. Another hassle.
Handsome on very good terms with his wife again, though. (He claims. Her version will be heard tomorrow.)
No bookshelves found - Beloved has been looking. Books still in boxes. Some loved ones mysteriously missing. Not sure what rather beautifully bound - gilded - mid-nineteenth century children's books from England can have to say in this landscape - but noone in London wanted to buy or even take them, and trashing books is not something Granny can manage. In future years her kids will not want to transport such gems of her library back to England, will most likely trash them then; it's all very perverse. But there you are. Book addicts. Equals shelf shortages.
To do: wash clothes. Boil up large amounts of orange peel, ready to make candied peel. (Tiresome.) Granny unfortunately has reputation for producing chocolate coated candied peel at Christmas which HAS TO BE KEPT UP. (Why does she let this happen?) Write book. (Ha.) Sort out ads for poetry course next year in very desirable location. (ie Granny and Beloved's house.) Make macaroni cheese. (Sudden nostalgia for standard and filling English dishes due to weather cooling.) Prepare bed in due course for Beloved's cousin, the one of umpteen lady friends, coming here - aged 70 odd- with yet another new one. Drive to see Attic Woman. Etc etc. To it. Granny p
posted by granny p @ 2:48 pm
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2 Old comments:
The Iraqi kidnappings/assassinations are so cruel and twisted, I agree - why kill someone who's trying to help you? And thus provoke other helpers to leave the country? It doesn't make any sense. But then what's the point of me saying that? What war has ever made any sense?
Questions, questions...
As for the "rather beautifully bound - gilded - mid-nineteenth century children's books from England" - you're not serious about them getting trashed, are you?! Those Londoners need a good clip about the ears.
Red Cross this morning say this war on both sides exceeding all bounds of nastiness. Yes.
No worry about books! Couldn't trash them. Try tatty blue and gold copy of Mrs Molesworth's 'Grandmother Dear,' c1900, given to my then 8 year old Aunt by my grandmother in 1905! (My dad was an afterthought, born when his mother was 50. She was 88 when Grannyp and twin sister born, as old and older than a great-grandmother. White-hair swept up, ahe sat upright on a sofa wearing a long black skirt, holding a cane. Like something out of those very books.)
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