Hullos and goodbyes

Granny's life is deep in her extended family just now. All week it's been cousins, filling her in on bits of family history she didn't know. In her family it's especially complicated: owing to the early deaths of mothers in all generations and the level of divorce - mostly in hers - the numbers of half and step relations are considerable and constantly get added to. Strange how one's view of one family problem gets turned back to front in the light of further knowledge from another part of the family. (Eg 'she left because she was no better than she should be' becomes, 'no she didn't, she left because he was the naughty one'. Etc. Etc. Or 'her name was X/no it wasn't it was Y'. Etc. Etc.)

Tomorrow Granny is off to Malaga, to join not-so-little sister and very-poorly brother. Her brother her sister says - she keeps forgetting this is their brother they are attending and calling him 'dad' - is like someone from an earlier generation: their dad's in other words. Among other effects of Big Brother's refusal to get to grips with the present is that computers/the internet do not come within his orbit: short of an internet cafe Granny will be out of communication for a while. She will try not to call BB 'dad' but who knows if she will succeed. It's strange how different siblings can be. She and her sister have managed to enter the 21st century, more or less. Big Brother remains back in the 20th - in some respects the 19th century - hard as his own children have tried to bring him up to date.

Meantime Beloved has put his back out and the goat has still not produced her young. She is so big that it gives Granny the chance to use that lovely word 'gravid' - this goat is, definitely, gravid - very. But the weather at least has improved: the cousins have brought more sun, less wind than for weeks. The cousins are all out, Granny will retire to her hammock shortly.

Back to cleaning up the kitchen, meantime. How meals do go on, not to say lurk. Guests it's called. Cousins may be cousins but they are, also, in terms of domesticity, still 'guests'. And guests mean a) work and b) no slobbing out with a glass of wine in front of the telly. Let alone in the jacuzzi. Jacuzzi, restored at last after two months' to-ing and fro-ing over need for new cover, has been full of gleeful cousins all week.

Very expat thing, a jacuzzi. But very pleasurable all the same.

See you all later.