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I don't even remember when we last saw my parents in person, but I think it's at least 18 months ago. Today the plan was for the family to drive to Cheddar for a couple of nights, but Catie has gone down with the virus that poleaxed me last week and there was no way she could make the trip.
Should we postpone or should I drive two kids 170 miles ON MY OWN?
The children had been really excited about going to see their grandparents and we'd waited long enough. I decided I would be the most courageous human being that has ever lived and take this on.
And all I can say is thank God for Ian iPad. Without his invention we'd be back to the terrible old days where the only way you could stop your kids fighting and rioting was to make them see how long they could keep a polo in their mouth before it disintegrated or play pub cricket (you got runs for the number of legs that the subject of the pub had- Dog and Duck was a 6, Duke of York was 2, The Heather Mills McCartney was the rare single - or if the subject had no legs - the Kings Arms, The Rose and Crown, the Randy Octopus [those are tentacles you idiot) or try to spot one to 999 on numberplates in numerical order - man the Seventies were tough.
With delays on the M25 the journey took approaching five hours, but we had no tantrums or tears and the only person who needed to stop for a wee was me. We listened to Marley and Marley (I don't know how long this will be my son's favourite song, but I hope it is forever and that this is all he will play at college too) and Katy Perry and Paul McCartney. I handed out the occasional Haribo and with huge self-restraint didn't eat any myself. It was actually a rather pleasant experience. But let's not get cocky. We have to do the whole thing again on Thursday.
As tough as it was to leave Catie behind, it was the right choice. She was feeling worse by the evening even though she'd been in bed all day and the kids were super excited to be back in my parents' garden and their grandparents were delighted to see them. Grandma squirted them with a hose in the sunshine and the garden rang with children's screams and laughter for the first time since 2019. It's been tough on the kids to be kept from their friends and family, but it has been maybe just as tough for my parents who have self-isolated pretty strictly for all that time. And I got to see them in person too, of course. When was the last time I didn't see them for a year and a half? In my long life I don't think I've ever been apart from them for more than six months.
They've missed seeing their grandkids for these precious and irreplaceable months and the kids have missed out on important memories and experiences with them too. Even with a family that has so far avoided any big Covid tragedy, these less obvious losses and consequences are quietly brutal. Unlike many we are fortunate enough to be able to make memories as the crisis hopefully drags to an end.
The whirlwind of my kids blew the cobwebs out of the house an rejuvenated us all. My parents let the whole thing wash over them, like the water from the hosepipe and it made me very happy to see it, though simultaneously sad about what we'd sacrificed. But at least this has helped us appreciate what we have.
Of course the real reason I had to come here was to gather material for the next series of Relativity and my parents didn't disappoint, with a discussion about Naked Attraction revealing the rather more innocent dating games of the late 1940s. Sadly my phone was charging in the other room so I couldn't just record it all and write it down verbatim, so will have to try and reconstruct it from memory.
And my mother told a story about her own grandmother who came from a place called Christchurch on the south coast (she'd been quite well to do, but ended up marrying a builder from Middlesbrough and moving there which must have been a culture shock). Anyway my great, great grandma had wanted to go up the tower of Christchurch Priory but had been told she wasn't allowed, but had spotted an opportunity to sneak up when no one was looking. She got to the top and remembered looking down on the town and seeing the people looking like ants, but when she'd come down the door had been locked. So she went back up the tower and prayed for help (I'd have thought shouting to some of the ant people would have been a more sensible option) and when she came down the door was open. She believed that Jesus had come to her aid.
My parents had visited Christchurch in the last few years and my mum was keen to go up the tower too, as her grandma had spoken of this story so often, but when she got to the church she was told that there were no trips up the tower that day. But later she passed the tower and the door was open and a group were waiting to go up - it was a privately organised trip. Mum asked if she could tag along (though I think the story would have better symmetry if she'd snuck in without asking) and so managed to replicate her grandmother's journey. And the people did look like ants.
I thought that she was going to tell me that they also got locked in, but it was all fine, though the key and lock to the tower were very old and doubtless the same ones that had been there decades before. My mum was happy enough with the coincidence that she managed to get up the tower even though she'd been told it wasn't allowed. I told my daughter that when she was 80 she'd have to sneak up there too, but she said she didn't want to. So that's that tradition fucked.
Dad also informed me of the miracle beam at Christchurch priory where workmen building the place had cut a beam too short (which was a bit of a disaster as wood would have been precious at the time) but when they came back the next morning, the beam was magically in place and fitted perfectly. Once again, Jesus got the credit for this. But you'd think he had better things to do then help trespassing ladies out of towers (though he was of course very forgiving of trespassing) and incompetent carpenters do their job. He's not a shoe making elf, working overnight, he's the son of God.
But who knows what his priorities are? Maybe Jesus just likes hanging around in Christchurch Priory putting things that have gone slightly wrong (but are eminently fixable) right.
We're here for a couple more days, so should have the series written by the weekend.
