This might seem like a strange thing to illustrate the blog with, but all will be explained.
Yesterday afternoon I met my mum at Middlesbrough train station and put my suitcase in her car before she gave me the keys to my grandparents' house so that I could go and see it in peace (and after she had told me off for smoking and told me that Coca Cola was bad for me, I am 39 tomorrow). I wanted to see the house before the funeral because I didn't want the next time I saw it to be full of people and not my grandparents.
Letting myself in to their house felt awkward at first, I even took off my shoes as they were always a shoes off household. I felt like an intruder in the house even though I wasn't there to do any harm. I don't believe in ghosts or life after death but I felt compelled to talk to my granddad and apologise for not going to see him and Nana more often, and for the first time in my life I told him that I love him. He was a lovely man and just the sort of granddad every kid should have, but he never hugged me or kissed me goodnight as a child because he didn't think boys did that. We always greeted each other with a handshake rather than a hug but it didn't really matter to me because that's just how it was.
I didn't want to sit in his chair so I sat in the chair I sat in last time I saw him and remembered how much happiness this house has given. As a child they use to look after my sister and myself and they were fun and entertaining and we looked forward to going there. Even looking out of the front window brought back happy memories because opposite the house there is a pathway that leads to the seafront eventually and used to have a play area at one point. There is honestly not one single bad memory in that house and I want to preserve it in my memory. To say how often they redecorated the living room in healthier times, the kitchen remains the same as I have always remembered it. The kitchen has the same 1960s units that it has had since, well, the 1960s, and the built in wardrobe that was built by my granddad for my mum's bedroom is still in perfect working order. I took a load of photographs of the house as I suppose after this visit north I might never enter it again. The toilet roll holder in the bathroom, pictured, is the one they have had at least as long as my memory allows, and I have a good memory for seemingly unimportant things. In the back room a selection of photo albums were out as Granddad used to like going through them with my mum, and I went through and took some copies using my phone, as I looked at each picture of their life and ours I felt a singing in my eyes but I didn't cry no matter how much I wanted to.
As I said, I may never enter that house again once I return to Nottingham, and although it makes me sad to think of another family living there, I hope their time in the house is as happy for them as it was for every member of my family who stepped in. They had better take their shoes off though.
The Sunday Alternative #53 is available from here.
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August housekeeping
We are now in the eighth month of the year and at a standstill as far as work is concerned. In unrelated news, it is my birthday on the 27th of this month so a nice present would be a donation using the PayPal button. This would be spent on creating podcasts, documentaries, short films, comedy sketches and various other entertainments that I will make available to enjoy online for free.
The above t-shirt and bag is also available to buy, all the money goes to the same creative fund. They are on my shop page.
I'll play you a kazoo song request, find out how here.
Letter of complaint written for you for £2, here.
steveEoliver@gmail.com
