Eighty-Seven
Manchester in the sunshine! Well, that's something that you don't see every day.
In fact these are probably the first photos of a sunny Manchester that have ever been taken.
It's a Grand Northern City, all right, and very proud of itself.
Lots of big imposing buildings, both Victorian and ultra-modern (like the one I was working in, where you couldn't get through any door without an electronic pass card):
There are lots of hidden corners, too, which I like.
"What date is it?" asked the man I was working with.
"April 20th," I said. "I know because it's Hitler's birthday."
He looked at me quizzically, clearly wondering if he was sitting next to some kind of neo-Nazi.
"Actually, I know that because April 20th is also my mother's birthday, and she's always been furious that Hitler had the same birthday."
Hitler was born in 1889. My mother was born thirty-five years later, in 1924. She's always liked the symmetry of her birth date. 20/4/24. Twenty. Four. Twenty-four.
We took my Mum out for a meal the night before her birthday, to the Scott's Arms in the lovely Yorkshire village of Sicklinghall (great village, horrid name). It was recommended to us a while ago by Silverback and has become a favourite haunt of ours - great food in a lovely setting.
So, here she is, awaiting her meal at the Scott's Arms, about to be eighty-seven.
She may be rather forgetful, but she looks really well at the moment. Just don't ever suggest to her that she dyes her hair - it really is natural and has only gone slightly grey. Her mother, who was a redhead, was the same. I may well be too - I think my hair is only slightly grey round the edges - - but I keep dying mine so I don't know!
She seemed to have a lovely evening - she had a starter and then a dessert as she always complains that all portions are too large for her tiny appetite. And then, on her birthday, she had some of her favourite visitors (thank you, David).
She lives next door to me and I always feel that, although I see her every day, I don't do enough for her. But I hope she'll have many more happy days.
In fact these are probably the first photos of a sunny Manchester that have ever been taken.
It's a Grand Northern City, all right, and very proud of itself.
Lots of big imposing buildings, both Victorian and ultra-modern (like the one I was working in, where you couldn't get through any door without an electronic pass card):
There are lots of hidden corners, too, which I like.
"What date is it?" asked the man I was working with."April 20th," I said. "I know because it's Hitler's birthday."
He looked at me quizzically, clearly wondering if he was sitting next to some kind of neo-Nazi.
"Actually, I know that because April 20th is also my mother's birthday, and she's always been furious that Hitler had the same birthday."
Hitler was born in 1889. My mother was born thirty-five years later, in 1924. She's always liked the symmetry of her birth date. 20/4/24. Twenty. Four. Twenty-four.
We took my Mum out for a meal the night before her birthday, to the Scott's Arms in the lovely Yorkshire village of Sicklinghall (great village, horrid name). It was recommended to us a while ago by Silverback and has become a favourite haunt of ours - great food in a lovely setting.
So, here she is, awaiting her meal at the Scott's Arms, about to be eighty-seven.
She may be rather forgetful, but she looks really well at the moment. Just don't ever suggest to her that she dyes her hair - it really is natural and has only gone slightly grey. Her mother, who was a redhead, was the same. I may well be too - I think my hair is only slightly grey round the edges - - but I keep dying mine so I don't know!She seemed to have a lovely evening - she had a starter and then a dessert as she always complains that all portions are too large for her tiny appetite. And then, on her birthday, she had some of her favourite visitors (thank you, David).
She lives next door to me and I always feel that, although I see her every day, I don't do enough for her. But I hope she'll have many more happy days.
posted by Daphne at 8:29 pm
4 Comments:
Happy birthday Joan!
see you soon
Val and Les
Not sure I like seeing my gardener having a slap up nosh. I must be paying her too much.
Oh wait...........
Happy birthday, Joan. You're a class act.
A belated very happy birthday to your mother!
If you used the U.S.-style date format (dd/mm/yy) her birthday would be palindromic (in words, not in numerals): Four. Twenty. Twenty-four.
What a lovely white cardigan your mum was wearing and what a tremendous fashion statement! I assume you have an identical one Daphne? Did you knit it yourself?
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