The Way We Were

It’s Sunday morning, the morning after the night before. The morning before the night after and not far off the night before the morning before.

If you can understand the paragraph above would you let me know what it means as I’ve not got a chuffing clue!

Today, the capricious West Yorkshire weather has generously bestowed autumnal sunshine upon the populous. Although, after seeing the spoilt cat next door walk through my garden in scarf and gloves, I suspect it’s ‘brass monkeys’ outside.

I spent yesterday evening in the company of my parents and my younger brother, Ian. We ate Chinese food, reminisced and our Ian proved that his thirst for wine hadn’t flown south with the migrating swallows.

Tales of our childhood ricocheted around the dining table like an out of control dodgem. The conversation included our Ian stealing the ham out of my sandwich whilst I was at a café toilet, the cars my dad had when we were kids and did my mum carry any guilt at making us wear balaclavas.

Interspersing with the yarns of yore, our Ian occasionally questioned “Can I open another bottle of wine dad!” to our undemonstrative pater.

It was a evening of family revelations over the smorgasbord of oriental cuisine. In a bid to seek redemption I finally admitted to our Ian it was me who stole his Terry’s Chocolate Orange at Christmas 1974. My sibling was unperturbed, though, as he disclosed he spent years stealing chocolates out of my Matchmakers box! …….. Cheeky get!

Overall, it was a pleasant evening in the warm environs of chez Strachan senior. A place where you can relax in the knowledge you don’t have to stand on ceremony. Which is lucky because after the amount of wine consumed standing was a challenge!

With the youngest of us in middle age, it wasn’t a late night. We retired for the evening around midnight with our stomachs full of Chinese food and my dad’s wine rack bereft of merlot.

Prior to heading for our rooms, we bode each other a cordial “Goodnight” as though in an episode of The Waltons. Apart from my sibling who incoherently said something more suited to The Beverley HillBillies.

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During the evening I received a lovely compliment from my mater, who informed my brother that although I can be a so and so (she actually used a ruder noun) I’ve got a good heart. I was overcome with emotion at my mums overwhelmingly kind commendation.

It was the nicest tribute I’d received since earlier in the year, when someone classed one of my blogs as “Not as bad as I thought it would be!”

I have to say I don’t handle compliments well as they make me uncomfortable, meaning I to react to them sheepishly….. Not to worry, though, as I’m rarely a recipient of them; apart from for my Terry’s Chocolate Orange pilfering skills!

Anyway, it was a successful Saturday evening where a gaggle of Strachan’s put the world to rights, had a multitude of laughs and our Ian sang us his 2016 Christmas song ‘I’m Getting Shoes For Christmas’.

A yuletide gift of shoes will no doubt be a blessing to my bro after our mater’s weekend observation of  “I hadn’t realised what bleeding awful feet you’ve got, Ian!”

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