Wednesday, 2 February 2011


The next 3 weekends look busy for us with what has to be a very subtle reminder for myself and Mr T. We are celebrating 3 friends 40th birthday’s on 3 consecutive weekends so should be lively. It also poses the daunting  fact that both Mr T and I reach this pinnacle age next year, just a month apart. Not only that but Mr T’s business also celebrate being in business for 40 years, so me thinks a big shin dig is on the cards for us next year! For now I will enjoy other’s 40th’s and hope that I feel as joyous when it is my turn!
It has to be said that I neither feel (nearly) 40 or invariably never act (nearly) 40!! My friends will be able to vouch for the latter of these!! Although this week has felt like an uphill struggle as I have been hit by illness and don’t really “do” being ill – too much to do without an irritating illness to stop me in my tracks.
I put my sheer immaturity down to my father, sorry dad, but I have no one else to blame really. My dad was the funniest man in my life as I was growing up, his father a close second, so I guess immaturity runs in the family. Dad would always make both myself and my little sister laugh out loud so much so that our stomachs would hurt and we would be begging him to stop with the funnies!!! Just remembering those days makes me smile J
Dad would be a master at writing extremely witty poems in my mum’s birthday cards, every year. Us girls came to love them as much as mum did. He would also be able to imitate many voices, Frank Spencer in Some Mother’s Do Ave Em being his absolute classic, the mannerisms he had down to a fine art.
We went on our annual camping trip to Cornwall, we resided in Gloucester at that time, with my parents best friends and their 2 daughters. We shared so many lovely times with Auntie Joy, Uncle B, Ella and Jayne and I’m sure each one of them will remember this episode with much laughter and amusement. Let me introduce The Whistling Man.
Dad was whistling whilst Jayne was in our van, simple question from Jayne: “Who’s that whistling?”  to which my father replied, “The Whistling Man!”. From which ensued a wonderfully elaborate story about a Whistling Man who lived in our caravan, his home, a matchbox. Dad found an empty matchbox in order to ensure the story had some tangibility to it and each time the matchbox opened the Whistling Man would whistle a merry tune!! Jayne was taken in hook, line and sinker and to this day I don’t get tired of hearing about it. I mean, he did really exist.... didn’t he??!
It’s these beautiful, subtle things that make a childhood and I hope between Mr T, myself and our wider family and friends, we are helping log some stories for our children.


  1. Lara, your blog is wonderful. Can't wait to read more! Xxx