Throughout the 1960's and into the mid-1970's
we lived in a terraced house in
Walthamstow. Mum, Dad and me downstairs. My
Aunt, Uncle (Dad's Brother) and Cousin
upstairs. My Cousin and I grew up more
like Brother and Sister, plus we each had what felt like a back-up set of parents on call at all times. My Uncle died suddenly in 1978 and my
Cousin relocated to New York in 1988 with her
job and has lived there ever since. My Dad
passed away in 2007 followed by Mum in 2010. My
Aunt, who has just turned 86 and is still very active, lives alone in
East Ham, less than a mile from where she
herself was raised. Her dozen years in Walthamstow was as far as
she ever moved. My Cousin, who's now been
married for 25 years, has three fantastic
kids of her own (18, 15 & 12) and around this time every
Summer, she brings the full New York
contingent over to visit her Mum...
and of course, her older Cousin.
As you'd expect, there are hundreds of photos of my Cousin and I growing up. This funny little shot is my favourite.
So by the time you read these words, I'll be
down in London catching up
with 12 months worth of family shenanigans,
wondering just how much taller the kids can
possibly get, introducing my Cousin's
American husband to more fine British ales,
confusing all and sundry with my English
colloquialisms and doubtless eating my own body weight
in unhealthy snack foods. I'm not sure what the plan is or where
we're headed yet, but there's been talk of a
trip out to Kew Gardens. Her mob have definitely
never been there and the last time my Cousin
and I visited the place was nearly 50 years ago,
when we were dragged along, under protest no doubt, by our
own parents. Something tells me that we'll
appreciate the experience a lot more this time around.
