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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/291qMW7:
dolly-bassett:
dolly-bassett:
Peter and Paula, my maternal grandparents. Peter was an optician, Paula his secretary. Peter loved living in Devon, where he did for over fifty years, and enjoyed boating, raising ducks, and photography. Paula was passionate about history, especially Oliver Cromwell (we have a flag of the Commonwealth in our house), the colour green, and rivers, particular the Ouze near Cambridge. Peter was a fan of DIY, built some lovely furniture. Paula was incredibly proud of how she passed her driving test while eight months pregnant with her son, my uncle, Edward.
Peter served in the Royal Engineers. Paula remembers hiding under the table during the Blitz.
Grandma used to tell me how they battled through the snow on Dartmoor that day I was born to come visit me. The happiest times of my life was at their house in Devon; playing on the pond with Grandpa, riding the tractors, learning how to knit with Grandma, fry-ups, the most wonderful Christmasses in the world, beach barbecues on Woolacombe.
Grandpa called me Tripey whenever I was rude to my sister. Grandma used to tell me I was more likely to marry someone like Boris Johnson than Matthew Macfadyen.
The last conversation I had with Grandpa; he was praising a painting I had done for him of Venice (his favourite place on Earth, second only to Devon). The last conversation I had with Grandma; she was praising me for getting a first on a recent law essay.
Both of them loved their children, and grandchildren, more than anything else on Earth. I am saddened every day by their passing (Grandpa in 2006, my grandmother earlier this month, very unexpectedly), but most of all feel tremendously privileged and thankful to be part of such a close family, and to have learnt about love from the two most loving people I have ever met.
Repost from 2013.
A more English couple you never would have met, as shown above. Their daughter, my mother, married a non-white immigrant, and their support of this was unwavering. It never occurred to me that my grandparents’ tolerance, acceptance and love for those from other backgrounds but had chosen this country as the home for their family would be something apparently somewhat unique, in the minority for those of this country.
I loved my grandfather so much. He was so kind, such a steady, intelligent, funny presence. He lived a long and fulfilled life. He remains an inspiration.
My flying instructor is a man about twenty years his junior, and shares many attributes. A dry sense of humour. A drive to do what he loves - which is flying, a passion we share intensely. We’ve spent a long time one-on-one, in a close, pressurised space, literally miles from anyone else. He’s spent hours beyond our allotted time talking and mentoring me through difficult choices and difficult career. He reminds me of my grandfather, which is high, high praise - I trust him, admire him, look to him for guidance.
Today was the first time I’d seen him since the Referendum - a day frustrated by weather, tension heightened by exam stress. I tentatively inquired. He voted Leave - not heinous in itself I always want to know why. After feeding me a tepidly unconvincing line about stupid EU regulations (straight bananas, eye roll), he then, very calmly, in that dry, quietly sure voice I’ve come to trust literally in moments of relative danger, told me that “I remember this country before the EU, or the EC. I was old enough to vote against it first time around. And I’ve seen what immigration has done - I’ve seen immigrants come and it’s had a very negative effect on British culture, the right way of doing things.”
I understand that he may have had that opinion in his mind for a long time. He may even have been troubled by it. But now, for whatever reason, he thought it was okay to share with me, an immigrant’s daughter and proud dual national, a fact he’s aware of. I’m immensely upset that he considered that okay to share with me now, for whatever reason. Sorry, sir - but see above for an example of the right way of doing things.
Comforting to remember my grandparents, and I feel privileged to have known them - denizens of the Britain we should be; tolerant, stronger by diversity but proud of our history and culture, open-minded and curious about others, loving unrelentingly.
dolly-bassett:
dolly-bassett:
Peter and Paula, my maternal grandparents. Peter was an optician, Paula his secretary. Peter loved living in Devon, where he did for over fifty years, and enjoyed boating, raising ducks, and photography. Paula was passionate about history, especially Oliver Cromwell (we have a flag of the Commonwealth in our house), the colour green, and rivers, particular the Ouze near Cambridge. Peter was a fan of DIY, built some lovely furniture. Paula was incredibly proud of how she passed her driving test while eight months pregnant with her son, my uncle, Edward.
Peter served in the Royal Engineers. Paula remembers hiding under the table during the Blitz.
Grandma used to tell me how they battled through the snow on Dartmoor that day I was born to come visit me. The happiest times of my life was at their house in Devon; playing on the pond with Grandpa, riding the tractors, learning how to knit with Grandma, fry-ups, the most wonderful Christmasses in the world, beach barbecues on Woolacombe.
Grandpa called me Tripey whenever I was rude to my sister. Grandma used to tell me I was more likely to marry someone like Boris Johnson than Matthew Macfadyen.
The last conversation I had with Grandpa; he was praising a painting I had done for him of Venice (his favourite place on Earth, second only to Devon). The last conversation I had with Grandma; she was praising me for getting a first on a recent law essay.
Both of them loved their children, and grandchildren, more than anything else on Earth. I am saddened every day by their passing (Grandpa in 2006, my grandmother earlier this month, very unexpectedly), but most of all feel tremendously privileged and thankful to be part of such a close family, and to have learnt about love from the two most loving people I have ever met.
Repost from 2013.
A more English couple you never would have met, as shown above. Their daughter, my mother, married a non-white immigrant, and their support of this was unwavering. It never occurred to me that my grandparents’ tolerance, acceptance and love for those from other backgrounds but had chosen this country as the home for their family would be something apparently somewhat unique, in the minority for those of this country.
I loved my grandfather so much. He was so kind, such a steady, intelligent, funny presence. He lived a long and fulfilled life. He remains an inspiration.
My flying instructor is a man about twenty years his junior, and shares many attributes. A dry sense of humour. A drive to do what he loves - which is flying, a passion we share intensely. We’ve spent a long time one-on-one, in a close, pressurised space, literally miles from anyone else. He’s spent hours beyond our allotted time talking and mentoring me through difficult choices and difficult career. He reminds me of my grandfather, which is high, high praise - I trust him, admire him, look to him for guidance.
Today was the first time I’d seen him since the Referendum - a day frustrated by weather, tension heightened by exam stress. I tentatively inquired. He voted Leave - not heinous in itself I always want to know why. After feeding me a tepidly unconvincing line about stupid EU regulations (straight bananas, eye roll), he then, very calmly, in that dry, quietly sure voice I’ve come to trust literally in moments of relative danger, told me that “I remember this country before the EU, or the EC. I was old enough to vote against it first time around. And I’ve seen what immigration has done - I’ve seen immigrants come and it’s had a very negative effect on British culture, the right way of doing things.”
I understand that he may have had that opinion in his mind for a long time. He may even have been troubled by it. But now, for whatever reason, he thought it was okay to share with me, an immigrant’s daughter and proud dual national, a fact he’s aware of. I’m immensely upset that he considered that okay to share with me now, for whatever reason. Sorry, sir - but see above for an example of the right way of doing things.
Comforting to remember my grandparents, and I feel privileged to have known them - denizens of the Britain we should be; tolerant, stronger by diversity but proud of our history and culture, open-minded and curious about others, loving unrelentingly.
