Categories: uncategorized
Date: 06 August 2007 22:36:58
It's probably been nearly 18 months now since my mother asked - no, DEMANDED - that I keep the weekend of the 4th and 5th August 2007 free. So I did just that, and Mum set about planning lots of stuff, and yesterday my grandad was treated to a surprise party to mark his 90th birthday.
So yesterday morning, Grandad, Mum, Dad, Tina, Spike and myself headed to church, five of us having spent much of the preceding 24 hours running about setting up all kinds of stuff that the other one was completely unaware of. Having received many hugs and kisses from the ladies at church - something he seems to do every week, even when it's not a special occasion - the birthday "boy" was invited out the front (I think he was invited anyway, or he might have just taken it upon himself to jump up and share the story; it all happened so quickly it was hard to know) to tell everyone what had happened way back on Sunday the 5th of August 1917. "Well, it got to about 2 in the afternoon, and my mother wasn't feeling very well... and then I was born, just after 2:00, so I missed my Sunday dinner..." People keep saying my sense of humour is very similar to Grandad's; I'm starting to see what they mean.
As Mum noted, it's amazing that Grandad didn't twig anything was up, considering that some 80 or so people had been invited and countless more knew about it. But it would appear he was oblivious to it all. We persuaded him to come across to the other church building for a cup of tea and some cake, and then the operations really kicked in. I grabbed a couple of my mates and sneaked out the back to start blowing ridiculous amounts of balloons up, while various helpers started to get tables and chairs out. It wasn't until the arrival of some of Grandad's relatives who lived too far away to be realistically "just passing" as they claimed, that he started to wonder what was going on. So Mum gave him a copy of the invitation letters she'd sent out, and before you knew it the room was packed with wellwishers from near and far.
Grandad is president of the local branch of the Royal British Legion, and their members had actually offered to provide all the food and drink when they'd heard of Mum's plans for a surprise party. They did an amazing job. There were countless salads, sausage rolls, snacks and quiches (well, there were a lot of Christians there, so we had to have lots of quiche really) and, as Spike will tell you, some cheese which had been the centre of all sorts of concern over the course of the weekend. They also provided a fine selection of beverages (along with Spike's "everything-but-the-kitchen-cleaner" punch, which used up various strange bottles of alcoholic liquid Mum and Dad had knocking around in the cupboard since goodness knows when), and one of Mum's cousins made a spectacular cake iced in the green, gold and black of Grandad's beloved Northampton Saints Rugby Club, for whom he had played in his younger days. Grandad seemed touched by it all, and was delighted to have so many friends and relatives there to wish him well. He spent the whole party flitting from table to table, making it hard for us to track him down when he was needed for cake-cutting or that sort of thing. He made a little speech, which was as touching and as funny as we'd expected, and got a little emotional remembering Nanna, which was also to be expected. After the frivolities had died down, and people had started to head off home, we tidied up and packed up, and I found myself bursting all the balloons I had been blowing up just four hours earlier. It's safe to say we were all pretty much knackered.
Of course Grandad has his faults like all of us, but to me he's truly inspirational and this weekend has made me realise just how much I value him. I don't know if I'll live to his age, but I just hope that as I grow older I'll have more of his energy, enthusiasm and kindness. And more of his sense of humour, too.