Weekends

I watched Midwife and Halifax last evening, my one night of indulgence in front of the television. The lesbian partner might have been killed off in the latter series, but there's a new one in Midwife, and I'm interested to see where that will go. Another storyline concerned a young husband and father-to-be who is arrested for gross indecency with another man. Shock and horror all round, and the price to pay for his sin was hormone treatment, oestrogen pills until he had developed breasts and no longer fancied men. The loathing and ostracism of him and his wife by all the neighbours was just a side show. He was born a few decades too early. Bad timing mate.
 
The weekend was much enlivened by a visit from a daughter. We always have such fun, whichever daughter it is, and we make the most of this playground that is Suffolk. Lunch on Friday, arrival day, was at the Golden Keys in Snape. Who should be front of house, serving behind the bar, taking our food orders and bringing the dishes, but Constantine who often did work for us in Wilby. He was actually employed by friends of ours in the village who run a duck-rearing enterprise, and now he's designing menus for this pub. He's come a long way from Romania. We had a terrific lunch, then a walk to the top of the lane, before hunkering down in front of the woodburner as the weather took a turn for the worse. On Saturday we did the antique shops, spending £4 on a pair of ostrich feet ice tongs; they're very posh in Cambridge. And in the evening we watched "Goodnight Mr Tom", and sobbed our hearts out, as you do. We explored the church across the lane on Sunday, musing on what a great place it would be for a wedding. An easy, convivial weekend. My American friend Mike, who I met on a plane 4 years ago, told me that when you are a parent, you’re a parent all your life, and when you’re a child to that parent, you’re a child all your life. He says that love for your children never abates or morphs into something else, or at least, he adds, it hasn't for him. Dear Mike, one of the sweetest men I know, has a wonderful relationship with all of his children. I agree with the first bit, it's true. But for me it has morphed into something else, and that something is friendship. I don't think I anticipated it all those years ago when my role was 100% that of nurturer, but it's more equal now, and the caring comes in both directions.

The final lap was a treacherous drive in the sunshine to Saxmundham on icy lanes, and a half hour wait in the car as we realised we'd got the wrong train time. But why was there a coach and a large minibus waiting at the station? Who could they be expecting? The answer was supplied when the London train arrived and dozens of young musicians tumbled off, instruments strapped to their back or carried by hand. They'll be Snape bound I'll bet, and what a happy sight it was. Once they've thawed out they'll be making music, and how I wish I could have crept among them and been a fly on the wall.