On 14 November 2021 I wrote:
On Remembrance Sunday I used to take part in the parade at home, attending the church service and then marching up to the memorial.
When I first lived in London I went to the Cenotaph most years, I felt lost if I didn’t mark this day somehow, it’s in my blood. Back in the 80s there were far fewer people at the Cenotaph and most years I would stand just yards away from the royal party. I wasn’t there for them though, it was about family, about tradition, about giving gratitude to those who made such sacrifices.
This year I’m at home and watched the parade on telly, thinking mostly about some of Mum’s stories of the war… when she and Jen lay in the field in Hampshire, looking up at the planes (that was the Battle of Britain), of the time she was at boarding school in Helensburgh and her father’s ship dropped anchor and he came to pick her up. The headmistress was quite in a tizz at this handsome man in naval uniform evidently.
But mostly I think of memories themselves… mum is losing so many of hers and I feel a need to hold on to them, not to let anything go. So today I’ll start stitching this geranium which sits in her conservatory. I love the smell of geraniums.. we always had a couple of enormous fragranced ones in the porch at Fleet Street. And that smell is the smell of a happy childhood, of coming home.
No bonus pics today, but come back later and I might post some of my ancestors in uniform.
The geranium is all stitched now, and I love how it climbs up over the pocket of the smock. The actual geranium is gone. We managed to keep it alive for a year or so after Mum went into the care home… but had left it in her conservatory and through the winter it lost its will to live and that was that.
Mum was rarely sentimental about plants, or anything really. So she would have been quite ok about it being thrown out and making space for something new. I’m less good at this, and still live surrounded by too many things which should have been thrown out years ago, or at least months ago.
I’m sure I will write more another time about the table cloth and crockery that was only used on special occasions. And in all honesty special occasions really just meant Christmas and Hogmanay. And to this day I quite enjoy polishing silver, feeling that same frisson of excitement that we had as we presented our best selves over the Christmas season. Gleamy silver, shiny glassware and all our eyes glittering with excitement, reflecting the lights on the Christmas tree.
And yes, I still have most of the Christmas decorations too. Of course.
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Thank you for reading this.
Mostly I blog about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, so if that might be your thing, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.
Do get in touch if you have any questions or comments – I love to hear from you my lovely readers.
Shewolfinthevalley 
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