It's that Sunday again. The dreaded one in three when we have to visit my father's family. It's the only time my mother and I are ever really in tune. She hates it as much as I do for different reasons though I'm never really sure what hers are about.
So there we are - disunited as ever, a family of four trudging through the side streets of Bristol on our way to the dark, gloomy house to see the dark gloomy occupants and follow the same ritual as all the other visits. Sitting round in a circle on hard uncomfortable chairs drinking tea out of flowery china teacups and eating egg sandwiches and sponge cake from a wooden tea-trolley wheeled round, usually by my father's older sister, Queenie.
My mother has a face like thunder and I have my grumpy look, despite being warned by my father to be nice to them because they're old and lonely. They're also ugly, I think to myself, so no wonder they're lonely - anyway they have eachother even though Aunt Audrey only comes to life when persuaded to play the piano, which she does surprisingly well considering she's not been right in the head since she woke up to find her own mother dead in bed beside her when she was a child (so my mother tells me). Aunt Queenie will make a fuss of my brother as usual because she's his godmother and he always gets all the attention anyway because of his problems, which makes me feel left out and unlikeable.
The nearer we get to the house, the more panicky I feel. My mother is complaining loudly to my father, he is saying nothing as usual and my brother is wobbling along with that unsteady gait of his. I concentrate on avoiding the lines on the pavement, thinking if I manage not to tread on one then it won't be so bad after all.
And now we're here and climbing the three steps up to the front door with its familiar stained glass panels and heavy knocker. The door opens and, as always, they are lined up to greet us. Grandma Mathews, my father's step-mother, stern and wrinkled and wearing black as usual. Aunt Queenie, round face, round glasses, round body - Aunt Audrey, a thin version of her sister, clasping her hands and not looking at any of us, and Aunt Grace, step-grandmother's sister, who is quite a sweet old thing but never says much. Four unmarried ladies, and I include Grandma Mathews in that as she didn't marry my late grandfather until she was forty-five and although she was his fourth wife, he was her first and last husband. He died when my father was only in his teens so they can't have been married that long.
It's all a bit like something out of a Dickens novel. The house is as strange as the occupants - cold, dark rooms, the curtains always drawn, old-fashioned furniture, a musty smell everywhere and sepia photographs of unknown dead relatives on all the walls.
And now for the moment I've been dreading the most - four whiskery chins, four papery crinkled cheeks lean towards me expectantly. There's no escape. I have to do it so I close my eyes, hold my breath and reach up - peck, peck, peck, peck and it is done. But not really, because after tea I watch the clock hands creeping round to six o'clock (going home time) knowing I will have to go through the whole kissing ordeal all over again. And they don't even smell of lavender like old ladies are supposed to - they smell musty, like the house.
All the way home my mother grumbles to my father about the weirdness of his family, my brother ambles along beside them and despite a niggling worry that I might one day grow whiskers on my face when I'm old - I soon forget about it and instead concentrate on stepping on as many pavement lines as I can on the walk back.
After all it will be three whole weeks before we have to do this again and that thought very nearly makes me smile.
Comments
skinner_jennifer | May 30, 2011 - 15:10
Hello seashore,
this is a brilliant story, having grown up in Bristol, I can imagine the house being somewhere in
Clifton, up near the Downs. I really loved your
description of the old house and all the family
and I think it's a wonderful IP, touching on another
completely different direction.
Great read. Thanks.
Jenny.
seashore | May 30, 2011 - 15:55
That's so kind of you, Jenny. Do you know, I have completely forgotten the exact location - I just remember it was a long walk from where we lived (Westbury Park) and we didn't have a car. I don't think it was nice enough to be Clifton....but it could have been I suppose. Thanks so much for your nice comment.
Coral
PS Jenny - if you come back to this, I've just remembered it was Collingwood Road wherever that is!
skinner_jennifer | May 30, 2011 - 16:14
Hi seashore,
just checked, I think Collingwood Road was close to
Whiteladies Road, I used to go to a lot of parties
in the 1970s around that area, especially student
parties.
I had a job as a nannie, off of parry's lane in Stoke
Bishop, which is not far from Westbury Park.
I lived in a village called Shirehampton, which is
close to Avonmouth.
Thanks for getting back to me.
Jenny.
Geoffrey | May 30, 2011 - 17:14
Much better. Gosh I'm helping you write!
Overthetop1 | May 30, 2011 - 17:15
This makes for a compulsive read. An excellent way of bringing the I.P. to life.
seashore | May 30, 2011 - 17:44
Yes Jenny - that's right! Just googled it. Thanks.
seashore | May 30, 2011 - 17:44
Thanks very much OTT.
seashore | May 30, 2011 - 17:48
Geoff - thanks for the help. Original was a total mess but glad to know re-write has made it better.
Highhat | May 30, 2011 - 20:42
This is really good Coral. Such a great IP
you CAN write prose !!
;)Pia
celticman | May 30, 2011 - 22:09
terrific. Really enjoyed this snatch of life. Gets my vote for SOW.
seashore | May 30, 2011 - 22:43
That means a lot, Pia! Thank you so much.
seashore | May 30, 2011 - 22:45
Celticman - wow, I can't believe you said that! Means a lot from the master story-teller. Many thanks.
Thanks for cherry eds - more than chuffed as I really struggle with prose!
ScoZen | May 31, 2011 - 15:53
Seashore
Enjoyed the happy families scene.
"...I have my grumpy look..."
"...watch the clock hands creeping round to six o'clock..."
You're not really a clock watcher...are you?
seashore | May 31, 2011 - 16:16
Nice to see you around ScoZen. How was Glencoe?
Re clock-watching - it depends! Not when creating...
barryj1 | May 31, 2011 - 16:38
Overthetop1 said it best when he noted that this vignette makes for a compluslive read. I have an eerily similar problem with certain family members and was wondering if there is any possibility we (i.e. you and I) might be biologically related through some long-lost bood lines. I had relatives who traveled through England from Russia on their way to America and it seems perfectly plausible....
On a more serious note, Susan Glaspell, a turn-of-the-century American author wrote candid (maybe scathing is a better choice of words) depictions of humanity. A Jury of Her Peers, which is generally considered her greatest masterpiece of a short story, shows the grotesque possibilities. Interestingly, Glaspell could also write very humane and sympathetic depictions of ordinary individuals and I think it was because she chose to venture to the one extreme that she could also depict generous, sympathetic characters.
Anyways, I've gone off on another rant. You breathed life into some comatose, hebephrenic types. This is great stuff. But you already know that.
maggyvaneijk | May 31, 2011 - 21:08
Excellent story! A very familiar setting: "Sitting round in a circle on hard uncomfortable chairs"
seashore | May 31, 2011 - 22:36
Thanks for commenting on this one, Barry and for introducing me to yet another writer to broaden my literary horizons.
I'm really not at all confident with prose but glad it worked after a few re-writes. I suddenly thought there's perfect material there with all these weird relatives - it would be a shame not to use it!
Thanks again for dropping by - I always appreciate it.
seashore | May 31, 2011 - 22:38
Maggy, thanks so much for reading and telling me you liked it!
barryj1 | June 1, 2011 - 03:03
Not really all that confident with prose? Neither was Herman Melville, who began as a poet. Much of his best prose reads like lyrical poetry. You have a similar tendancy. Prose, shmoze - this piece of yours, simply stated, is good stuff.
By the way, Glaspell's A Jury of Her Peers is in the public domain so you can probably download it right off the internet. I am addicted to nineteenth century American and British authors.
seashore | June 1, 2011 - 03:19
Once again I thank you for your encouragement and a share in your vast knowledge of all things literary sometimes addictions can be a good thing!
RachelPatricia | June 1, 2011 - 18:35
I agree with everyone else, Coral - you certainly CAN write prose! :)
You described each scene and setting so well - I could picture it all really vividly - and as always, your sense of humour crept in there which balanced the down-beat tone perfectly.
Reminded me very much of similar family get-togethers when I was a child, only all of my relatives smoked like chimneys so I never got to see if there were any sepia ancestors on the walls through the cloud of smoke - probably for the best! Was much more interested in rooting around upstairs, anyway, at that age! ;o)
Yes, envoked a lot of memories for me, this one did, and I think it's a very original take on the IP and definitely deserving of its cherries and more - just brilliant.
Rachel xx
seashore | June 1, 2011 - 18:53
Your comment really cheered me up, so bless you for that, Rachel. Had to go to hospital today so tired and a bit traumatised (a CT scan type thing but not quite what I was expecting). Would like to write about it sometime but not now!!
Thanks for kind words as always. This is first prose cherry for about 6 months and it took several attempts as I was losing confidence but feeling more like doing some more now. I have a low boredom threshhold (or is it high - injections have addled my brain!) and love to experiment like I always did with art. The other thing I struggle with is imagery but I've kind of got my head around that now - just go with my own style and don't try and do what others do when it doesn't come naturally. You seem to manage both, clever girl. I will have a quick look and see what you've been up to.
Thanks also for coming back to Unknown Soldier - appreciate that too.
Now who's rambling??
Take care, Coral xx
RachelPatricia | June 1, 2011 - 19:08
Oh, Coral, I do hope you feel better soon, so sorry to hear that your first day of June hasn't been a good one :( - yes, give yourself a rest and when the time is right, I'm sure you'll word your experience as beautifully as you have done with your others :)
I completely know what you mean - it can be really difficult, especially when you admire another writer, not to subconsciously replicate some of their style in writing that has been inspired or influenced by them in the first place. This has no other stamp on it other than your own, and that stamp is a glorious one! So you honestly have no worries there, we can all tell this is a seashore-story and that's what makes it the gem that it is.
Definitely keep going with the prose, you really do have a knack for it, and regardless of how many edits this one required you honestly can't tell, it flows effortlessly and unfolds the way every great story should - to a conclusion that leaves the reader smiling and contemplative at the same time.
I guess you and I have a fondness for rambling which no doubt helps us as writers (in any field) and I personally find rambling refreshing, especially when it's reciprocated!
Lovely to hear from you, take the time to recooperate and we will wait patiently for the next treasured piece you put up, be it poetry or prose - either way, we know it'll be brilliant.
Take care and get well soon,
Rachel xx
Silver Spun Sand | June 1, 2011 - 19:31
Coral, I do so hope the CT scan wasn't too traumatic today and wish you well;-)
As to your story, the cherries and all these comments, are testament to the fact 'your sure can write...be it or poetry of prose.
Very much enjoyed. Thank you for a fantastic read.
Tina;-)
seashore | June 1, 2011 - 22:53
Thanks so much once again Rachel!
Thanks also to you too, Tina for reading and leaving such a lovely comment. I shouldn't really be talking about my scan on here should I, but yes it wasn't quite what I thought it would be - more a precedure but feeling a bit better this evening. Appreciate you asking.
Coral xx
Cavalcaderl | June 1, 2011 - 23:10
new seashore
Great story so very true in
lot's of ways, to life.Especially
like our's large family.
Well deserved cherry!
Sorry to read your poorly,good
writer and for (IP)
get well soon
julie xx
seashore | June 1, 2011 - 23:23
So many nice people on Abc including you, Julie. Thank you for reading this, liking it and for the good wishes. Just one of those times we all have when it's one thing after another! Helps to keep writing.
Cavalcaderl | June 5, 2011 - 09:22
seashore
what a great compliment I am on cloud nine!so much is
happening.
Yes they are all nice.Well had bad news
long term friendcalled me used to come to us,of a
another's friends going back her mum. But it's
all part of life, but the happening pretty awful,
sent get well card. No I am a wishy washy person,
mine says I am only nice to outsiders, well depends
how one is spoken to, don't you think.M some years now.Younger but age is immaterial it's the connection counts. Just watched britains Got Talent. Centres ok but have tread softly, treat all respect better.I told you you I am an agony aunt, if can help some one that's my goal now.Experiences in life.
Sounds very windy out,have a good week-end.
Thanks for Great compliment and to you the same, but tried lot's things eventually, not got hang poetry yet.Just try. take care.My late mum used to go on pier sing and join in 80,she won m 6 children a talent years back, contest so confident. now they are letting oldies in things.If only alive to-day very forceful mum.Non professional,go n/home guitarist centre few of us sing medley songs friend, but from folders so don't have learn all words.
Children still not reading and writing,and spelling
to-day, and all gadgets going.I missed quite bit of school.Hopeless at mathmatics and games.Sums.Scribble
over the page, if teacher calling out how to something,naughty. say reecipes instead of receipes,
and poem the farmer picked up his gun and bunny laid
an egg,instead of dead,all laugh.Sums games hopeless
but elderly groups all finished, and sheltered homes,
used to be taken and taught.But all kinds nature friend's have a go at all. Bring's out there own talent whatever age. But can't read a note of music.
Take care.xx
julie xx
seashore | June 5, 2011 - 09:48
Julie - I love your comments! You just chat and chat and it's great.
One thing's for sure - I would never describe you as a `wishy-washy' person!!
Coral xx
Cavalcaderl | June 6, 2011 - 09:18
new seashore Letter.
hello! Coral lovely name. Are you sure hah! Well you know very shy as a child and illness.Missed bit schooling.Sung nativitity red cross Ave Maria hard squeaky voice. but oh! so scared when was 12.Ragged child
part, then king, still got photo.Strange to go back
where the barn stage was fet'e, and stage still there
rock band on.Not until daughter grown up, and many mishaps, that;s putting it lightly. Did I join and able, to do and join all things done. We were over 50's we dance and sing groups, camp school once dress up was about 12 years old and as kids perform last night all did. Can delete.I see your very clever
Art and helping other's and college. Try a picture or
rose or what, look into it,then write what you see or fell. How we started 1st base. Hat Cat Umbrella Fella colours imagination now thoughts, who am I to say. Much later in life few years back, he did pay singing lessons,very hard, as mum had so much power.
To-night watched opera and Joe -- on pop star, trained to sing one opera brill.Like a fool trying here fun,laughing as mine sat listening me boring him, got him join in.But did mention editor recently t.cook Tony AbcTales if should delete my long comments, no said they like me chat think. Hope your well.May not comment correctly though. Or tell when stories are so good if real or not.
Went Brighton GT last year, but someone knew years, pulled me bits, so nervous as hell, as they in to, I told them about it and not well,
that night there judges said lovely voice so nervous
and hit top notes nice. School parties always got me to sing.Hope your better. I know that word you use traumatised. Must go.Late love chats.Sometimes I put to much never did when started and comments hard and
punctuation had a lot of help on here and Editor Tony
and many.Can't get London on my own, so mine takes me. That's another story.Age now one foot in the grave laugh. Hope to see and go to and him go BGT Brighton centre, booking coming and mine come like last year. Feel sorry when they are criticised so much. watch very expensive tickets.But church etc and homeless taught me so much and help and involving all pf course healing etc.Yes put small album now to-gether met few celebs great Cavalcader and signed programme in and young ones. and stage door we went,once nerves set had it.
Some more think !Don't wait up!, or !Dinner at eight!
about 6 of them did, thrilled and to do.
bless you.That's all for now ok he he.
keep writing.
julie xx
ScoZen | June 12, 2011 - 12:24
A late reply to kind post seashore.
Perhaps I need to keep an eye on the clock.
re Glencoe, sadly missed due to road closure.
Gale force winds bringing down tree's.
But, you may be interested to hear, I visited a number of art shows
seashore | June 12, 2011 - 12:38
Oh shame re Glencoe - one day I will write about it! Where and what art shows I wonder?