Meeting a Mummy

Threw away Uncle's teeth yesterday. Hesitated a moment in case there might be a charity that collects dentures but then thought, 'No.'

Tonight his body is being received into the church. Not entirely sure what that means but afterwards I've invited people back to Uncle's apartment for a champagne toast and nibbles. (Did I mention that I originally intended the toast to happen at the wake because Uncle had left us a large number of bottles of champagne, but the hotel intended to charge us £15 corkage per bottle, which is just silly?) To be more accurate I've invited those people I've remembered to tell. Which could be anything between ten and some other number.

That's why I was in the apartment yesterday: having a little tidy. That was before I went to the hairdresser's - at long last. If only the bags under the eyes problem could be resolved in an afternoon at the hairdresser's. It was the only appointment I could get and it clashed with the Wales Scotland game, which we recorded. The news reporter on the radio started talking about it while Mark was finishing off my hair. I yelped, put my fingers in my ears and he quickly switched on the hair-dryer. So I didn't find out that we were trounced until I finally got home and watched the recorded game.

I thought Scotland might win - they're on the up - but I didn't expect the score to be quite so bad (29-13). Oh well, another year, another defeat.

In other news, on Friday I took GrandSon4 for a walk in the sling while his mummy was in a fabric-printing workshop. He managed to stay awake until we'd done the library but fell asleep before we went into the museum.

There is a fascinating exhibition in the corridor of photos by a woman who lived in Swansea at the beginning of the twentieth century. I was surprised by their artistry, which is illogical really as people have been creative and artistic since time began. It's not a new thing even if the method of expressing it may be. Lizzie East was a professional photographer at a time when few women entered the profession. 

The photo I liked best was of an elderly woman in her going-out clothes standing/walking by a hedge. She has a very slight smile on her face unlike many of the photos from that time. There are also lots of lovely photos of Lizzie's nieces. 

From the Lizzie East Facebook page

I also took GrandSon4 to meet a mummy. Not his mummy but Hor, the 2,000-year-old Egyptian, who has a small room of his own that can feel quite enclosed and spooky when you're on your own. Or maybe that's the result of watching too many Scooby Doo cartoons with my children. We didn't stay in there long anyway.

Instead we carried on to the display of childhood toys - including a 1979 Jackie annual. We didn't stay there long either. Nothing like seeing your childhood in a museum to make you feel old.