May. 5th, 2017

smokingboot: (dreams)
Granada seems the same as ever but isn't; three protests in a week, one attended by my Aunt Fatima regarding the lack of facilities in the local hospitals. Her son was one of the policemen keeping an eye on the march. She has always been the most jolly and relaxed of my aunts, looking after her children, grandchildren, in-laws, husband, and siblings... so perhaps it makes sense that she should be an avid supporter of women's rights groups. It's just a new revelation from her. I had no idea, and hope she pursues it.

My mother is in such fine fettle I can't believe she's 78. She puts it down to pollen and royal jelly, but takes at least 5 vitamin supplements a day. There were just two troubling moments when she had to sit down because her sciatic nerve was playing up, but beyond that she was like some kind of gazelle bouncing around the city.

The Termagent is very old now, and even more crotchety because she can barely walk. She was full of criticism and terrible stories about how dreadful everyone was. 'Don't you dare pay for his drink, he needs to stop cadging off everyone...She tried to poison me you know...I remember their toilet was like the black hole of Calcutta...' Her main issue with me was about my chest. My mother and I were spending the evening with her when she leaned across and put her hand on one of my breasts.

'What do you want all this for?' She said, 'Who needs this much chest? I am almost flat, probably because you have my tits! And your mother's tits! And the next door neighbour's tits! You have all the tits in Granada!'

Her comments might lead strangers to believe I look like this:

artemis vatican

I can only assure folk that I am quite a normal size, it's just that all my mother's female family turn into magical bird women. In any case, my aunt was not to be stopped in her opinions.

'Mine are fine,' she said, and abruptly pulled up her top.'See? You don't need all that!'

'I like mine as they are,' was the only answer I could think of, and pulled my top up too.

My mother eyeballed us both. 'You are two rude crazy women,' was her cool rejoinder, and she steadfastly refused to join our boob parade. Her older sister cackled like a drain.

It's good to see the termagent laugh. 85 now, She falls asleep three or four times throughout the day, and can't bear any cold at all, but she still behaves as badly as ever. Some times she is harsh and miserable, other times her mischievous grin sparkles like an imp in a bottle.

There was much more, perhaps I will recount it later. The day calls, I must get on. Hello Blighty. Try to relax, OK?

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