You may recall that in my blog of about a week ago I became infuriated with my mother because she took well over an hour to choose a new pair of frames at the opticians in Ryton, causing me to miss Slimming World. She was determined to have something in the designer line, and she couldn’t make her mind up between Prada and D & G, eventually plumping for Ray Ban. Well on Saturday we went down to collect said spectacles.
Mum wasn’t happy about the price, not happy at all. I explained that the reason why they’re so expensive is because they are Ray Ban, but she wouldn’t have it and had a right old go at the receptionist. I’ve always thought that they don’t like me very much in that opticians, as my every encounter with them is when I accompany my mother there, which means they’ve never seen me at my best. Indeed the only dealings they’ve ever had with me are when I am at my very worst. I can just hear them thinking; “Mrs Linsell is such a sweet old lady, but she’s got this bloody bad tempered daughter………” I’m hoping that after Saturday they might begin to see things my way, having received the rough edge of my mother’s tongue for quarter of an hour when they hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Then Mum accused them of nicking her old frames (they hadn’t, she had them in her bag) before going over to the mirror to inspect herself in the Ray Bans. She peered at her reflection, screwed her face up and announced, “I don’t like them.”
In the afternoon my niece, her husband and their three children arrived to see us all, which was a lovely surprise and it had the added bonus of getting me out of having to go to Waitrose. We had a mishap with the Peppa Pig ball which sailed into the neighbour’s garden, so my great nephew Seb and I had to knock on their front door and say, “Can we have our ball back please?” Although their garden backs on to Mum’s it is actually a five minute walk to get to their front, and on our way 9 year old Seb stopped dead in his tracks to look at a house in Grange Road. “I do like that house,” he said. Then he mentioned it again, saying; “I really do like that house.” I thought this was a very peculiar thing indeed because unbeknown to Seb (he lives in Sheffield) the house belonged to my aunt for a short while just after the war, and my parents (Seb’s great grandparents) used to lodge in it. It’s pretty much identical to all the other homes in Grange Road and yet he noticed that particular one.
On Sunday morning I was booked to do a review for What’s Good To Do at Namco’s in the Metrocentre.
We had to take a child with us, and so we met up with our friend Marie and her young son Dan. It was a really happy friendly place and I’ve enjoyed writing about it. I’ll attach the link later We had the car valeted while we were down there.
My cousin Clea is coming to stay with us this week and she will need to use the car while I’m at work, so I thought I had better do something about the general filth. I’m excited about Clea’s visit. She is staying with Mum because there’s lots of room there, and I will stay too so that I can get to spend time with her. I suggested to Mum that she, Heather, Clea and I all go out to dinner one night to a local Indian restaurant which Heather and I have been to a couple of times and really like. Mum said;
“I hate it in there.”
“But you’ve never been.”
“Yes I have, I went several years ago and I don’t like it.”
“It only changed hands about a year ago, it’s really nice.”
“No it’s not, I hate it, and anyway they sell lamb.” (Mum doesn’t eat lamb).
I went on to point out that the Co-Op sell lamb as well, and she has no qualms about going in there, but she wouldn’t budge. Sorry Clea, it looks like it’s going to be McDonalds.