Gran’s Golden Wedding

For Mother’s Day – a poem from Mum’s ‘Old Poetry from OU Courses’ file:

I was sixteen, the grans were 72.
Now I’m 72 and the grans long gone
but their party was something else.
Aunts and Great Aunts,
Uncles and cousins galore
specially my favourite, red-haired John.

The tables were groaning
with ham and chicken,
and trifle with cream,
wine too, for a treat:
post-rationing food, the height of de luxe.
There were posh frocks and frillies,
and Dad wore his tux.

Grandad sang his party piece:
a plaintive Alice Blue Gown.
Uncle Bob sang Bless this House
and Aunty Win played Chopin.
Gran was tiddly, she did a knees-up
just like Mother Brown.
My sister and I sang London Pride
which brought the house down.

And for Jock (currently in lock-down in Notre Dame de Cenilly, Normandy) here is a photo of a leaf bud on the apple tree we bought for him for his 80th Birthday that we had to plant in our garden!

Jock’s Apple Tree (22 March 2020)