We Are A Grandfather

Now we can relax- a bit.

I woke this morning and the tension was leaving my system by way of my neck and shoulder muscles. A couple of cups of tea and a nice hot shower should clear it out completely.

I have a new identity. I'm a grandfather. Which of Shakespeare's seven ages does this correspond to? Not quite the lean and slippered pantaloon, I think- not yet- but, actually, here I sit in my dressing gown and slippers and... 

My own grandfather, Cyril Henry, was about my age (early 60s) when he became a grandfather. I only ever had the one grandfather (the other died in his 40s long before I was born) so he's my role model. He was a working-class lad who made a lot of money and liked to large it a bit. He had a taste for Bentleys and ormolu. He also loved books. He used to slip me half crowns (we called them "rich bits") and books with titles like The Myths of Greece and Rome.  I can't see myself handing out coin of the realm but I would like to give books. Mind you, Ivy's mother's a writer so she's going to have books anyway. 

I was my grandfather's first grandchild as Ivy is mine. This new status reminds how me I'm the oldest male in my immediate family- the patriarch. Now I've got the title to go with it: "Grandpa Grist".  My grandfather did it honour and my father after him. Now it's down to me...

The Red And The Black

Ailz tells me black cookware sells better than red cookware; I think I know why.

One of our new red pans is sitting on the hob and I keep seeing it out of the corner of my eye and thinking I've left a ring on.