Granny is conscious of her silence. She doesn't find much to say. She is still sitting in London - tomorrow is the memorial service for her children's father; not an occasion she looks forward to; but then nor does anyone else. Meanwhile other family storms rage. She is off back to her island on Thursday but not for long. Meantime she suffers the raging of politicians with a degree of detachment that is the consequence of her dad's forty years working in the House of Commons, around politicians - he knew all the the PM's from Baldwin to Wilson and didn't think much of any of them, as far as Granny can make out, apart from Churchill possibly, whom he freely admits was senile by the end. Not to say babbling. The shenanigans were all the same - just more behind the scenes; so the public didn't get to see their dirty linen then the way Granny's dad did. So now we're all disillusioned. Depressing. Mark Gamon has some pertinent things to say as usual. So go to him. She's had it.
So what's she been doing? Swimming. Walking. Being domestic. Missing her Beloved. Translating - or rather trying to translate - a good Spanish detective writer she thinks should be in English and isn't. (His name's Lorenzo Silva for anyone who does read Spanish.) Going to the cinema - try Volver, everyone and Little Miss Sunshine which said everything about those porno baby beauty contests that need be said - without actually SAYING it if you get her meaning. It had Granny laughing out loud too, which is just what she needs at the moment.
Oh and the other high spot - the highest spot; she got in a train and went down to Lewes in Sussex to sit in a garden full of wedding guests, looking out at the South Downs and having lunch with Dotty Nana. It was a pleasure of pleasures, which she hopes will be repeated, even if minus the wedding parties.
Enough for now. She will be back.
PS. The wedding party in the garden wasn't the only one - the whole town of Lewes was full of them. But this one was distinguished by the bride sitting on a wooden bench in white, plus veil, plus groom, plus baby on lap - the photo taken of the three of them will come out like a modern Madonna and Child - with St Joseph possibly - Granny thinks. Archetypal somehow. Very touching. She hopes the family has a long life together. These days you never know. (Not that she can talk.)