Wow! Fully two thirds of the year otherwise known as 2009 has disappeared down the cosmic gurgler. My aunty Narelle once warned me about this phenomena, that the older one gets, the faster life seems to speed by. She was right. She usually is. She’s a very smart woman, Narelle. I will write about her more here one of these days, but today’s blog, boys & girls, is going to be about Grandparents.
I would like to preface by saying that where we come from, how we grew up, and the values that our parents & grandparents instill is us are the pivotal , almost inescapable forces that drive us to become what and who we are, for better or for worse. Unfortunately, also , for a lot of the population that means living with a whole lot of left over weird arse depression era mentality , and in Tasmania, specifically, a lot of the recycled shame and class consciousness surrounding our origins as convicts/free settlers/gentry etc. , as well as the comparitive colloqialism and poverty and different era’d ness that Tasmania is renowned for. This little island, no matter how hard we try to update our buildings to look like federation square in Melbourne, is unique in this regard.
My father’s parents, Lillian & Neil Watson, are now both deceased individuals. Neil was a big tall strapping bloke with strong Irish potato crunching convict strains (My dad & I have taken after him) . Lillian, when she first arrived on the island in the 50’s , was a stunning blonde Queenslander with a razor sharp intellect, deadly maternal instinct from a large Mormon tribe. Quite a pair. They had six offspring, of which my father Ray was the eldest child, and I am the eldest child of his three. So we’re pretty bloody domineering in the birth order stakes, which is fine by me, I wouldn’t be anywhere near as accomplished as I am today were it not for the fearlessness and bolshiness instilled by being the torturer and gang leader of two younger brothers growing up!
My dear Mum’s family are from the north of Tassie, around the Launnie/Cressy areas. Grandma Shirley has strong Scottish origins, originating from The Mackerill tribe and the Border Welsh/English reeving (theiveing) tribes in Scotland. We didn’t end up on the ship out for nothing, y’now, and I try to continue these traditions, having been sentenced for dealing in the proceeds of crime when I was eight months pregnant with Minerva last year (Yes , readers, I have a criminal record!!) It was a pretty bloody dramatic time, I can tell you, getting a suspended jail term when you’re about to drop your bundle is not the most fabulous thing in the world. Anyhow, I have done me time & am off probation, and am a reformed internet pirate now, so no need to lock up your sons or your briefcases….
Grandpa Ray was an electrician called Sparks (ahahahah) hence all our fascination with incredibly complex pursuits like cake decorating, playing the devil’s trill sonata backwards on the violin, and impersonating police officers. Not sure exactly what his ethnice origins were , but I detect a hint of Latino in his skin colouring and mannerisms. He’s the most wonderful great grandfather to Minnie, loves her to bits, and can often be found herding up his granddaughters when they are in town…..Love you, my grandies xoxox
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