Jim Granter

April already and not much to post about on the face of it so here’s a ramble. Formula operating today: (Hands dry and aching + dodgy back) = (decorating and gardening last few days) so recommendation is a day of rest in the hot sunshine / cool house of a peaceful Sunday afternoon. I agree with myself and am complying.

One hundred and twenty years of neglect and over-painting of seized-up study sash windows presents quite a challenge but investigating the state of the cord and weights was interesting. Replaced the cords, in the course of which one of the heavier weights from the larger window rolled off the sill ( daft place to leave it) onto my foot, picking out for special treatment the toe next to the big one which went blue, along with the air. Hopefully that’s the major wound which usually occurs at some point in my “projects”. Good to see the bare wood of the frame – hot air gun and Nitromors, lots of scraping and glass-paper. Back to it tomorrow with final sanding and white primer. Aaaaaah …………. relax.

Next door’s two primary age children E and J came round yesterday and helped with our gardening. We all enjoyed J’s skilled performance on my shoulders as he tied up the top of 4 canes to create the wigwam shape for the beans in the pot below. Not sure he totally enjoyed it though as he approved greatly of my fetching out the steps for him to do the next set of canes. Emma collected some more rainwater from our butt for her triops eggs experiment. I cooked a mushroom risotto from the recipe on the rice packet. I thought it was fine and B liked it better cold. E and J had a portion without any great enthusiasm, but it all went.

We have a date for B’s hip-replacement operation – May 11th, the day before son E has an interview for a job. Could be quite a week. While on medical matters, must remember my appointment on Bank Holiday Easter Monday to donate platelets. Even had a letter about it, urging donations in holiday times, when stocks get really low. Heard statistics on the radio recently showing that donations from black and Asian people are much lower proportionately than the rest of the UK population. Something cultural apparently.

Literature classes have come to an end until the Autumn. One will definitely resume, on the theme of “Empire”, which should be very interesting. News about what is happening with the other one is imminent, from two of the members charged with coming up with ideas and making premises arrangements. I missed the final session as it was B’s birthday and I wasn’t too sure it was happening anyway, but it turns out to have been the wonderful John Toft on Henry Miller. John has sent B and me another book he has written and in the accompanying letter he says he was disappointed not to hear my views on Miller and that everyone “pretended not to be shocked”!

Have received the second monthly Newsletter from the Staffordshire Wildlife Trust which I joined recently. It is a very good publication and this one features a 2 page spread on my local Reserve, Parrot’s Drumble. Must get there again soon, before the bluebells have all gone.

Time for lunch.

This morning Irma Kurtz did Something Understood on BBCRadio4 which she called Happy Accidents.  Having just woken up when it started I pricked up my ears and consciousness because I knew I had a book of hers downstairs called The Great American Bus Ride, which I had enjoyed very much, having traveled a few thousand miles on Greyhound buses myself back in the 1990s. When the programme was over I found my copy and sat with it over breakfast. After traveling with her for a few bus rides or so I found the receipt between the pages, from when I had bought the book. It was from Dillons in Oxford Street, 17 years ago in 1994, on 20th March, which is today’s date. Serendipity? Coincidence? Irma says this in the programme blurb:”Serendipity differs from mere coincidence – it doesn’t knock at the door and you can’t go out to look for it.”

Today was split into several distinct sections, each reflecting a particular aspect of life as I have come to know it in recent years. 1. Domesticity: cleaned the stove. This was no ordinary clean. Last night partner had contrived to spill warm, therefore liquid, beef dripping all over and into the front doors of our cooker and onto the floor. It instantly solidified. A project loomed and at 0630 hours I made a start. Lots of self tapper screws and swearing later, together with all-purpose cleaning fluid, Brillo pads, scrubbing brush, dust pan and brush, Fairy household soap, paint scraper, tea towels, mop bucket and hot water, the cleaned up sections lay drying out as I showered, dressed and left for my 2. Literature, history and art of the first world war group. Wilfred Owen was the main subject of a wide ranging discussion and reading. How and why so many joined and died I shall never understand, even given all the reasons offered today such as poverty or patriotism.

Soon after I got home, an old colleague from work (from which I  3. retired eight and a half years ago) visited and we exchanged news of ourselves and family members. It transpired that we may arrange a visit to the new college which has replaced the old one where we once worked, which has inturn been replaced by a Sainsbury’s! It’s quite weird these days driving past the site of the buildings in which I spent 21 years. They were razed to the ground last year and the supermarket shot up in no time.

After my friend had left for work (she is still at it, part-time in a new job, resolving to “be” more and “do” less) I moved into 4. food – cooking and eating – this time a mixed grill, as I had missed lunch and was very hungry. Lambs liver, dry cured bacon, 3 small tomatoes, an egg and toast made a great feast, washed down with a cup of tea.  Partner has prepared a large rice pudding, as we have accumulated a surplus of semi-skimmed after starting to use very tasty un-homogenised milk from a local farm via the health food shop. This goes along with adopting dripping, pork and beef, for cooking. Apparently cholesterol is okay this week. Always thought so myself and will do so until the day I keel over with blocked arteries.

Late afternoon time then allowed a catching up with Facebook news of 5. Offspring. Daughter’s had another successful day presenting training to a professional audience in Dublin, whilst son has posted pictures of several of his university friends of a dozen years or so years at a small reunion the other day in London, as well as news of his dream involving a falling out with Jamie Oliver. I commented with my dream last night of chatting with Paul Newman about his films which is my 6.  Just managed to creep slightly ahead of partner in our game of Facebook’s Scrabble, called Wordscraper.

On account of all the above, 7. the house itself, (currently decorating a bedroom), took a back seat today, except for putting the lampshade back up, having finished painting the ceiling and wall  yesterday. The new brass toggle light switch looks good against the new “grey tints” paint. And I see it’s back to 1. Domesticity again, then.

My mother, Louisa Jane Granter, nee Tranter, was born 100 years ago tomorrow, 16 January 1911, in a small terraced cottage in the White Lion pub yard in Bedworth [probably not the White Lion Yard where the library is now, but the one off Market Place where the old White Lion Pub used to be, now demolished; information on the old yard from my cousin Margaret on 9/4/15 from her memory of her Dad’s history. Image of the cottage might still be accurate], West Midlands (as it is now).

She was the last child of Louisa Tranter, nee Green who had had seven sons survive up to then. Most of them were underground coal pit miners and by all accounts my Mum was a bit spoilt by all those quite well off working young men.

The cottages and the pub are no longer there [see note above about this probable confusion of mine], replaced now by a pleasant town library. The librarian there was delighted to show me pictures of the cottages when I called in a year or two ago [but she didn’t know there had been an earlier WL Yard up off Market Place].

As a child I used to go on the bus with my Mum to visit these uncles and their families in Bedworth and Bulkington. Their children were all older than me so they didn’t relate to me much, as I remember, that is, we didn’t “go out to play” while the grown-ups gossiped. I sat quietly looking at books or something. Can’t really remember that part, though I remember all their faces.

After I got to be a teenager I didn’t go to see them much any more and eventually lost touch with every single one of them and their families. [Reunited March 2015 with Margaret Sainsbury, nee Tranter, my cousin, daughter of Aunt Doll and Uncle Herbert].

For years we, my brother and I, thought our Mum was born in 1910 but when she died in 1985 we discovered the truth. She was born in time to be on the 1911 Census aged 3 months. We also found that her Mum was born in Darjeeling, India in 1872, while her Dad was in the Army.

I shall visit her grave in London Road Cemetery, Coventry either tomorrow or very soon after. It’s a good grave, close to a big yew tree, with a headstone we had made a few years ago, showing her with our Dad, Alf, his parents Elizabeth and Alf and his little sister who died in the 1918 ‘flu epidemic.

She was so proud of her two sons. I hope she had a good life in spite of my miserable grumpy Dad who was usually ill with respiratory trouble, though he was rarely off work with it. She had a good friend to talk to, Mrs. Stone as we knew her by, who also had a son, Raymond; she had to be gone from visiting before Alf got in from work!

I remember rubbing my Mum’s frozen fingers when she came in from hanging out the washing in the winter or from getting it in, with shirts and everything keeping their shape, frozen stiff.

I’m glad she got to see her four grandchildren for a few years before she died.

I am really tired tonight but in a placid mood conducive to a bit of casual blogging without too much thought. It’s so much milder now after some severe frosts and the coal fire has created an almost sweltering temperature in this front room.

Gill from down the road came with me today to first session this year of our ‘America in the 30s’ adult education group.

It was my turn to make a contribution. I had been sort of ‘volunteered ‘ for it as John Toft thought I was an expert on William Faulkner. Anyway, I did my best with a long lead in to a consideration of As I Lay Dying, Sanctuary and Light in August, the latter being my favourite book of all time, if I was forced to choose one for a desert island.

I played Faulkner’s Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech from a recording he made reading it, rather than the actual speech which was never recorded successfully for the public. I also played Rednecks by Randy Newman, which caused some consternation with his regular use of ‘nigger’ – the ‘n’ word as it was referred to!

Nobody seemed to have read the books except for the wonderful John Toft, which detracted somewhat from what I had hoped would be quite a lively discussion period. If nothing else, I think my enthusiasm for Faulkner’s writing got across and I hope it may have encouraged at least someone to give him a go, armed with some of the insights I offered, perhaps.

Had a visit from Ian, home for three weeks from his work in New Zealand. Much good conversation, news and gossip was exchanged which cheered B up a bit from her unwell miseries. Several cups of tea also featured, obviously.

Have received the annual gift of the Oxford American magazine from Liz in Pennsylvania.

Wonderful surprise from the backlog of deliveries by Royal Mail. Two Christmas cards accompanied it. Today is 13th January. Never mind, quite pleasant really to have surprise deliveries. I had become rather anxious a few days ago that some new USB-powered speakers would not make it here in time for my above-mentioned presentation, but they did and are an excellent £9’s worth. That apostrophe looks a bit odd but I think it’s right.