Mum and Dad, 80 not out
Friday, September 24, 2010 I shall be spending the weekend with various members of my family at Hassop Hall near Bakewell in Derbyshire (left). My father was 80 in July and my mother will be 80 in December so we wanted to celebrate by organising a small party in their honour.
Apart from my parents, who live near Ashbourne, a 30-minute drive from Bakewell, guests include my sister, my aunt Dorothy who has flown in from Switzerland where she has lived since 1948, and my uncle Roy, a retired GP and former racing driver. Including children, there will be 13 of us.
When we visited Hassop Hall a few months ago we liked it immediately. It has 14 rooms and the main house is cosy if a little old-fashioned. The grounds are lovely and I particularly like the ballroom and banqueting house in the old brewery.
Anyway, if it all goes to plan, guests will have arrived and checked in by mid afternoon (Saturday). Rather in the manner of an Agatha Christie novel, we have invited everyone to assemble for afternoon tea at four (when I shall reveal who the murderer is), followed by drinks in the bar at six and dinner in the main restaurant at 7.30pm.
Earlier this week I ordered a cake (actually, two cakes in the shape of an '8' and an '0') from a local cake maker, and I have also arranged for a photographer to take pictures after breakfast on Sunday.
To be honest, I was beginning to think this weekend might not happen. Neither of my parents is in particularly good health, my father especially. In his late fifties, having been fitter and far more physically active than I ever was, he developed serious angina.
Since then he's had two heart by-pass operations and, ten years ago, a heart transplant. Unfortunately, the side effects of all the drugs he has to take to stop his body rejecting the replacement heart have taken their toll and last year his kidneys finally failed, which now means a thrice-weekly trip to Derby where he spends 4-5 hours hooked up to a dialysis machine.
Recently he has developed angina again and this week I had to ask the hotel if they have a wheelchair on the premises. This is a far cry from the man who used to leap over fences and ditches in pursuit of some bird, rare or otherwise (he is a keen ornithologist). Meanwhile, such was the speed he used to drive, he could turn even the shortest of car journeys into a white knuckle ride. An old school friend still talks about it with awe, bordering on fear.
One thing my father has never lost is his fighting spirit. His will to live is extraordinary. I remember my mother telling me, the night he had his first heart by-pass 22 years ago, that the surgeon gave him five years at most, even if the operation was a success.
I shall say a few words when the opportunity presents itself and thinking about it the other day I surprised myself by feeling a bit tearful. (This is something that usually only happens towards the end of It's A Wonderful Life.) I love my parents to bits but it's not the sort of thing I tend to say, publicly or even privately.
No doubt I'll wing it as usual, but it would be nice to find the right words to express what we all feel.
Reader Comments (5)
Simon I can feel your dilemma. My parents are about the same age as your and they had their Golden Anniversary last year and had to speak. So my dad being an an electrician when I was a teenager took an old hand mower and a motor from a redundant washing machine and turned it into one of the world's first electric mowers. it was a death trap that 'elf and safety would go mad at. Mum once tried to put the chip pan fire out by trying to blow on it.
Dad's a born again anti smoker (he gave up when I was 2 in 1962) and mum always asks if I have cut down. Saying that I guarentee that me mum has told all her friends I am meeting Margaret Thatcher next week though.
weather looks fair have agreat weekend with your parents and family and just enjooooooooooooooooy.
I think the right words for me would be thank you both and we love you,what an achievement I love family times just have a great weekend all of you.
regards
alex
On the occasion of my 70th, last year, my daughters organised a very pleasant 'bit of a do'. In a sense, I was in the position of your parents.
At the time of our event, I was very conscious of a great sense of contentment that 'my life's work was done' (not that I was finished yet!). My family was 'in good fettle' and I was content.
I suspect that this is how your parents will be feeling as they look around at their family - seeing you as you are now and remembering you as you were when you were children.
Old people look back and young people look forward, and that is how it should be.
So, DID it all go to plan, and did you find the words you wanted, Simon?