Mum's side

I don't have many photos from my Mum's early days:

Mum and her Mum shopping in Hayes, late 1920s / early 1930s.

Mum and her Mum and Dad on holiday in Weymouth.

And for those in the know about the tarton trews...

Taken after we'd been mackeral fishing in Cornwall.  This is when I discovered that I love wild seas, and that Mum and Helly get seasick. Perhaps I'd found an affinity with fishing towns.

Off to be with Mum tomorrow for three weeks or so.  Maybe I'll find more old photos.

The Dirty Half Dozen

There is a small detour I can do enroute to the Gatehouse, and I usually do so at the weekend.

I can stand on a small wooden bridge and look out to the harbour.  If the tide is low, I can hear the water murmuring as it flows in from Maclaine's Rivulet.

If I look the other way, inland, this is what I see.  It is a lovely little retreat from the town.  Unfortunately rubbish, particularly from the school, blows into this area so I put out a call to the Friends of Triabunna Reserves (FoTR) to see if anyone would like to help me clean it up.  I knew it would involve wading in the creek and I didn't want to get bogged with no-one around.

The turn up was great and the job was done in less than an hour.  Six of us participated.  We only have 9 members and 2 were at work.

There really are some good people out there.

the tangled web of domesticity

Saturday dawned cold and windy with snowfalls in the central highlands, so Steve decided he'd drive to Launceston to watch the Hawkes / Freo game.

Wearing his vintage Freo Beanie, he joined the the other Dockers' supporters (both of them) but  to no avail

despite his mysterious friend.

I bunkered down at home and had a delightful day doing hardly anything at all, apart from noticing some domestic details.

brush from Sandrine, seahorse from Bellerive, soap from Pearl

Continuing the peruse of details on wintry Sunday, I noticed the extractor fan in the kitchen.  I guess it's been there since we moved in but I don't use it so I haven't really paid it attention.  When I did, I was mortified.  And when I removed it from the ceiling, I felt ill.  I spent the day cleaning it and realised that what I thought was shadow in the ceiling is actually dirt.  So I am gradually cleaning the ceiling.  I also did the washing.  I needed a bath after my Michaelangelo-esque exertions, and washed my hair.  Then I realised I hadn't brought in the washing so had to go out in the gale with wet hair which was immediately fluffed and straightened.  It was time to phone Mum, which I did.  She wasn't sure what she was going to have for tea so Steve helpfully suggested she order a pizza.  Mum was taken with the idea but had no idea how to do it, so Steve ordered and paid for a Domino's pizza from Gilles Plains.  Steve then got a call from the very diligent pizza delivery man to say he was knocking on Mum's door but getting no response.  I phoned Mum who was diligently listening out while watching the rugby.  I got her to answer the door and we had a 4-way conversation.  And just as we were all saying our goodbyes, Steve and I facing each other, I heard Mum say 'Oh here comes Tamasin with fish and chips'.

more family

Indulge me, as I am indulging myself.

Here's Grandma and Grandpa Cox at their house in the Rhondda, 1930

Here they are on a picnic with four of their nine children, 1930

Uncle George, Dad and the lovely Nell, still living in the Rhondda, 1937

By chance I have found a notebook while doing a bit of tidying up, and it has a note I made when in St Davids with Mum in 2010:

The story goes that one year there was nowhere for my parents to stay in St Davids so
Grandpa Cox asked his cousin, Bryn, to help.  Bryn arranged with Phyllis Morgan for Mum and Dad to stay with them at Heol Dewi.  When Mrs Morgan opened the door, my Mum felt forboding at the dark, prim woman who stood before them.  However, they ended up staying with the Morgans many times.  

Shortly after I was born, Mum took me to show Phyllis who by now had a brood of her own.  Phyllis' children gathered round to look at me and wondered how old I was.  'Is she nought?' one asked.

Phyllis is now in a nursing home.  Her daughter, Kate, still lives in St Davids and her son, George, lives at 1 Nodfa Dewi where my grandparents lived.

1 Nodfa Dewi: Grandpa, Grandma and Cousin Stephen's Mum, Mary.

1959

I was delighted to find this photo.  In the London area now at my Aunt Lil's pub, 1969.  I remember going there as a child.  We had to go under the bar to get to their living room at the back.

And here is the man who gave me these photos, Cousin Stephen strolling with my Dad, 1986.

Welsh days

It is, of course, NAIDOC week and the flag is flying proud over our garden fence at the council offices.  I can't say there's much other evidence locally.  It is lovely hearing different Aboriginal languages on ABC Classic, and we did go to see The Merindas at Spring Bay Mill Sunday before last.  Great to see young Aboriginal women who do not take themselves too seriously but are very serious about their culture and language.

The connection between Aboriginal people and the Welsh, in my mind, is that both have been badly affected by colonialism and both are fighting back.  I have been concentrating on the Welsh bit being blessed living in Glamorgan Spring Bay.  On Tuesday we did a Road Trip to Swansea.  This is always a beautiful drive, but even better when someone else is driving, in this case, His Majesty, husband of Her Majesty, the Sun Queen.  His Majesty drives the community bus but had a day off on Tuesday so took we three old ladies out to keep in practice.  Mrs O Henry had a doctor's appointment to attend in Swansea so we skipped Zumba and thus managed to have lunch out.  The waitress told us that there was a whale in the bay.  I took this to mean that the food wasn't very good so better to be distracted looking out the window.  I was wrong.  My scallop and prawn linguine was excellent and I celebrated with a Craigie Knowe riesling.  We didn't see the whale.

In looking for a memory stick to work on Steve's 2020 calendar, I looked through some USBs that have been puzzling me for a while but didn't get around to looking at.  What a treat I found!  I spent yesterday evening looking at photos, many of which I don't remember seeing before.  They are all thanks to my cousin Stephen in Abergavenny.

Here's my Dad with his father and brother.  Dad's last day in the mine, 12 August 1936.

Then he was off to England where, many years later, he met and married my Mum.

Dad with his Dad.  Mum with her Mum. 1946

After moving to St Davids and living in a somewhat primitive cottage, Grandma and Grandpa Cox were finally allocated new public housing.  This is the cottage we visited as children and played on that lovely curved wall which Grandma eventually covered in shells. 1959.

And here they are in their garden. 1963

Weekend

It seems ridiculous to look forward to the weekend when you're retired, but I do.  Time to potter and get things, like the washing, under control.

The frost has killed the cosmos plants so I purloined some daphne from the school garden.  The school holidays started yesterday and so I will have the 24 Carrot Garden to harvest.

During the week the lovely Nicky from the school put out the first of the season's offerings.  She was helped by a student who declared it 'looked like a proper market'.

We now have a produce banner to indicate when we have items for sale.  Locals have complained in the past that they don't know when there is stuff for sale.  Possibly they may now complain because we don't have the oranges and kiwi fruits implied by the banner.

And I now have this little chap who, Jill PD tells me, is called Jumpshot.