A visit to Grandmama's

I'll just eat a finger
Originally uploaded by goforchris.

I'm in the middle of remembering one of the potent reasons for having children when you're young. My gorgeous granddaughter decided to pay us a visit this week, and brought her mum along to carry her gear, provide the grub and so on. What a commanding presence a tiny child can be! It's not that she wails a lot - though having recently discovered how to scream she does go in for some vocal exercises which will have her in the first sopranos before long - but she has an entire repertoire of beguiling little noises and smiles of recognition and/or amusement which make it almost impossible to ignore her.

However, that's her away to bed after an exciting day in which she had a walk beside the sea and another one up the Bishop's Glen, coming down in the dusk. As do all our guests on their first visit, she found the fresh air totally soporific and slept from the moment she left the house. This meant that she was also able to stay up and watch East Enders, which apparently she's not allowed to do at home. Grandmas can be such a bad influence ...

Skype babe

Skype babe 2
Originally uploaded by goforchris.

Now this is what all grandmothers need - especially if they live on the other side of the country from the object of their affections. As befits the daughter of Edublogger, Catriona has made an early foray into the world of VOIP, appearing on her father's webcam this weekend. Now I'll have to get one - can't have her staring at a blank screen - or was it the same pic that I was seeing? - while she talks to me!

But isn't Skype wonderful? And aren't computers just the bizz? So this post is for all the saddoes out there who think people don't interact if they're stuck in front of computers. I said I'd never quote the Blessed Margaret again, but I'm going to after all:

Only rejoice!

Lullaby

Beautiful, no?
Originally uploaded by goforchris.

Yesterday I was grandmothering again. I fear it may become a habit – for it’s very addictive! A look at the photo here should explain all … Up at 5am, off on the 7am ferry (thus neatly avoiding Cowal Games), we had time to shop for such varied items as olives, strawberries and cot sheets before arriving in time for coffee in Leith. And so it was after a very long day indeed that I found myself postponing our departure to have one final cuddle – and ended up singing a lullaby as I lay on the sofa with the baby lying on my diaphragm. What this did for my singing I don’t know, but it was obvious that the vibration as well as the sound had a soporific effect on Catriona. Actually I found it pretty soporific myself, and we left for home a full hour later than we had intended.

I have to note here that “soporific’ was one of my first long and wonderful words – do you recall the opening sentence of The Flopsy Bunnies? (“Lettuces are very soporific”, if you weren’t brought up on BP) But yesterday I was not really singing words, for the original words of the tune would have been in Gaelic. However, it seemed natural in all sorts of ways to sing the wonderful “Christ Child’s Lullaby” – the song Mr B has been working on of late for performance at Christmas in the Albert Hall.

I don’t think I sang lullabies to my own babies. Maybe I was too harassed the first time round; I certainly sang at Ewan, but it was because I had a performance coming up and had to get back in trim after he arrived rather later than anticipated. And so it was that the poor infant Edublogger had to put up with the alto solo from Britten’s “Rejoice in the Lamb" – the one about the valiant mouse. And soporific it was not.

Maybe that explains a lot …

Blethering already

Don't you think? A definite moment of communication! But what do you say, confronted by the really big events in your life? I can write about trivia to a band playing, can even waste yards of text on such trifles as pew leaflets, but right now I feel a tad lost for words. This totally tiny person, who wasn't known to anyone except her mother a week ago and who already has a perfect little face and a personality and perfect pianist's hands and is smaller than either her father or her uncle ever were - she's a miracle.

And yesterday we took her, and her mother and father, and a carload of balloons, teddies, flowers, clothes as well as all our luggage, home. A terrifying responsibility, driving this precious load through rush-hour Edinburgh, with buses looming irresponsibly close and impatient white van drivers irritated because we were accelerating with extreme caution. But we made it, and now we're on one side of the country and Catriona (and her parents) are on t'other side. But the eminently missable Cowal Games are about to start, and they bring a plethora of ferries on the Saturday. All full coming this way, all empty going back.

Except for us. We're off to Leith!