Friday, May 18, 2007

seven tits

Thanks Joyce for tagging me.

Admittedly, my first reaction (after laughing so much through your post, right up to that last line) was "poo".
But once I came round to the idea I've appreciated being kick-started into this next post after the previous. So, really thanks.


This did start in my head as seven tits.
Honest.

And they are here at the end of this post. But it then evolved into a seven days post, and seven things about the seven days.

1. Seven days away from home, seven days which felt like seven weeks in a very strange timeless land.
My mum had returned home (where she wanted to be) after 2 weeks in the hospice but after only 2 days, she was rushed back in again, haemorrhaging; the hospice team* - with their expertise, wisdom, intuition - had kept her room ready for her. After a long bedside vigil, she died and after 7 days we buried her.
(* who were overwhelmingly wonderful)

2. Dr. Karg crispbread thingies are exceedingly noisy - both the packaging and the chomping of their extreme crunchiness. On day 2 (I think, its all a bit blurry) my BIL and I went on a snack-finding trip to the local supermarket. It was a cause of some amusement on our return that almost all the things we'd bought were exceedingly noisy and there was much rustling, crackling, crunching, attempts to muffle noise and laughter which didn't seem quite seemly.

3. Laughter was actually quite a feature of those bedside days, with sometimes all 13 of us (me + 2 siblings with spouses, 6 grandchildren, dad) camping out in mum's room, in and out of the corridors, taking over various lounges, chatting, reading newspapers, mucking about.... Hospices are so mercifully unlike hospitals. Mum's eyes didn't open again after the 2nd morning, but she knew we were all there and I know she loved that we could laugh together as well as crying together.

4. Oast houses. Mum was in the Hospice in the Weald - the Weald being South East England, Kent and Sussex. Hop-farming and hop-picking used to be key industries and activities in Kent and the countryside is full of oast houses like these, traditionally used for drying the hops. This was mum's last view.





5. Mosaic puzzles helped keep some of us occupied and distracted during the long hours. "hanjie" and other similar types. Essentially they are (japanese) pictoral logic puzzles - a bit like sudoku but much less boring (imo). My sister and I were already inclined to be a bit addicted to these, but a niece and nephew picked some up and started colluding, with a surprising amount of hilarity.

6. Snooker - the World Championship Final. I grew up with snooker - we had a table in our house so my teenage hanging-out days included larking about with balls and queues. The high ceiling in our victorian house was pockmarked with little round blue holes. And we used to watch Pot Black - Hurrican Higgins and all that. So we watched, on and off... into the night, in mums room, in the lounges ... the clickings of balls and silences and understated commentary providing punctuation and background.

7. Tits. 2 actually observed, not 7 - though we don't know how many babies they are feeding in the little nesting box on the end of dad's shed. So could be 7. Apparently they can hatch up to 14 eggs. 14! blimus, in that little box?
In the days between mum's death and her funeral, we watched the 2 flying in and out constantly, incessantly, backwards and forwards - box to tree for insects, to shed roof for look-out, into the box, back out to the bird feeders.... I got a bit addicted, too, trying to capture their tireless mothering with my little camera. So here as promised are 7 tits.


















I'm not tagging anyone but if you feel like it, take "Seven" as your theme.

(or tits, of course....)

22 comments:

tut-tut said...

What can I say? You've expressed it so well.

Akelamalu said...

Nice to see you back Letty. :)

Joyce said...

tits, indeed.
The laughing, munching, mucking is much the same as some of the nights we spent hunkered over my brother, sneaking sips of wine out of brown paper bags and giggling inappropriately...

Calamity Tat said...

And what beautiful tits they are too, love you much Sal xx

ramblingwoman said...

A lovely post Sal. Sending you much love.

Wendz said...

Wonderful post Sal - miss you.
xx

Donna said...

You're amazing you know :-)

I did enjoy this x

Vintage to Victorian said...

Just catching up with your posts after a hectic time. So sorry to read your sad news, but how wonderful that you were all able to be with your Mum for those last few days. As time goes on you'll treasure those memories, as I'm sure you do already.

Love the tits ...

Thinking of you, Sue

la bellina mammina said...

your post always puts a smile on my face! You should check out the one of the cat on mine! Have a good weekend.

Ex-Shammickite said...

I enjoyed reading this. Your mum knew you were all there for her, and I'm sure you all gained strength from one another as the days went on. Nice post! Sad, and well written.
And congrats on your seven tits!
I can't accept your numerical tag, I'm in the middle of an alphbetical theme. Maybe I'll tackle numbers next.

Bud said...

Just going out to post your parcel off. Please look out for it. Oooh, I'm so excited. I hope it gets to you on time. Oooooooh!

martin said...

That post bought back memories for me when my Dad was in the hospice. He to was knocked out by the drugs but I know he knew we were there. He held out for a week and a half and died on my Mum's birthday, he always did plan things well.

And tits are my favourites....... very "carry on"

Infamy infamy.....they all have it infamy.

Dumdad said...

Chanced upon your blog today and discovered the neocounter things - brilliant. Thanks. Do we get to keep them for free forever?
And I also read your blog - brilliant as well.
If I can do it I'm sure your newt can learn to cohabit with the froglets.

lettuce said...

Thanks Tut, and Akel.

Joyce - i though of you when I wrote that, sure you had similar experiences

You too Tat.
and Luce
and Wendz.
love you all.
xxx

well i don't think so Donna, but thanks!

and thanks Sue, yes I do and will.

laBelle - loved that cat! haha

ex-sham, i'm enjoying it. looking forward to x and z of course...

ooooh Bud, excited here too! xx

a week and a half, blimey Martin that must have been tough.
Check this out. I'm Joan Sims.....

hello dumdad. nice to meet you. I think the basic version is free for ever or for the time being, whichever is longer :O) (payment is only about £5 a year tho). So, you cohabit with froglets? MUST check out your blog.

Cream said...

Seven Tits and not a single Red Breast!!!

Loved this post, Lettie. Great memories to hang on to.
I don't know whether I've said this before but when I was a kid, I couldn't bear the thought of my mother going before me. Time passes. She went. I just remember the good times.

Reya Mellicker said...

Thank, you, Lettuce. The cycle of life goes round and round. I feel so grateful for your insights and willingness to allow us (your readers) to share pieces of this amazing time. When someone dies, the people who are close to the experience touch a mystery people have been trying to understand forever.

Much love headed in your direction from the setting of my nephew's wedding, another powerful reminder of the cycle of life, at least for me. I was present for the birth of this nephew. Now he's a beautiful, poised, intelligent man. All I can say is wow.

mist1 said...

You have seven tits?

martin said...

Letty I am Kenneth Connor..... I was hoping for Syd.
Have a cool week...... xx

Pod said...

what a great post. i have read it twice, nay thrice over two days. thanks for showing us mum's last view. you may look back at that in years to come. i wish i had documented little moth's depature in photos. i really don't know why i didn't. i took note of her last view from the hospice window too. it is great that you keep th eimportance of laughter going through out such a time. it is admirable, as are your tits......

:0/

Dizzy said...

How lovely.

When my aunt died in a hospice her sons and my sisters and I were there with her and the atmosphere sounded very similar to that of you, your mum and your family. We were all obviously devastated, especially here 3 boys, but during her last week there was so much laughter, discussion, and tears and memories, I felt it brought us all closer to one another, more so than we had been previously. You know Letty that really did help, the memories of that sharing of grief and then the laughter; something that has remained with me and always will.

Lovely story of the tits… the photos are great, especially the one with the wings… Lots of love and a big hug X

Ps. I agree with Dons

Queenie said...

Lettice,My thoughts are with you.
Love the TITs, I've had a box out for three years and its still vacant, must be the neighbourhood!!!

lettuce said...

sorry cream, i know how you love red breasts. yes, i'm sure time passing will help. in time.

thanks Reya - yes, it does feel like touching a mystery.

Mist - ummm.......

martin, who wouldn't hope for Syd? ;oD

nay thrice, Pod? I am flattered. And by your admiration. It did feel a bit odd actually, taking pics - but my dad suggested i take one of the view and I am glad i did. What was your mum's last view like?

Dizzy yes, it was like that with my family too.

Queenie i hear they can be quite fussy. ;op