by There was much more I could have said about Mum two posts ago, but at 1100-plus words, that “essay” was already getting up there. So I’ll add a couple more things right now.
First, obligations. Fulfilling obligations is very important to her and always has been. If she says she’ll be at x place at y time, she’ll damn well be there. Sometimes she’ll take this to extremes by turning non-obligations, where nobody is going to care if she turns up or not, into musts. When I was a kid this got particularly bad when Mum and Dad had signed up for some event or other, and then Dad got one of his crippling migraines as he so often did in the eighties and nineties. Mum would seethe and sigh and huff and puff. Why are you being so awkward? She treated him like a disobedient child. Not an ounce of sympathy. Watching from the sidelines, it was painful. Apart from that, which I find unforgivable, I see a strong sense of obligation as a good thing, and I like to think it has rubbed off on me. (I do fulfil the vast majority of my obligations, partly because I try not to have too many of them outside work. I know my limits.) Some of my students in Romania don’t have this sense, and I’ll admit that does frustrate me.
Second, church. Mum has attended the Catholic church since she was tiny. (I did too until I was 16 or so.) But really it comes into the category of obligations. She goes because she always has done. I’ve never seen her read the Bible or express any profound religious thoughts; I don’t even know if she believes. What church does do for Mum is promote a certain way of living. She looks after herself. She gets plenty of exercise, doesn’t gamble, doesn’t smoke, drinks very little (that’s just as well; two glasses of wine and she’s gone), and has an impressive level of self-control over her eating. Growing up I remember the big platefuls she’d dish out to the three men in the house, while she’d give herself half the amount. Church also gives her a social benefit; after the service she has coffee with other women who attend, which probably means a whole load of inane gossip.
I thought about the church thing because Dorothy has invited me to attend tomorrow, including the baptism afterwards. Under normal circumstances I’d have said no, but because I’m going through a lighter period of lessons I should be able to cope with this extra human contact. I just hope it doesn’t last too long.
The most interesting lesson of last week was the Romanian one. Our teacher asked, Have you ever met a famous person? Like actually interacted with someone famous? I said no. I’ve seen plenty of famous people – members of the royal family, top tennis players, and so on, but I’ve never had a conversation with any of them. Dorothy said yes because she happens to be a member of the vast, and vastly successful, Freud family. Good grief. Sigmund Freud is her great-grandfather. Clement Freud (who had his fingers in numerous pies) and the artist Lucian Freud are both uncles of hers. The fashion designer Bella Freud is her cousin. I’d always wondered about Dorothy’s background because she has quite a clipped upper-class accent and uses elevated words and expressions that my parents wouldn’t use despite being a few years older. When she said that it was easy for her to get into Cambridge, that set off alarm bells. I wonder what her upbringing was like. She did say that she was happy to rid herself of the Freud name when she got married; I can imagine. In New Zealand I knew one of the daughters of Keith Holyoake, whom I think was the country’s longest-serving prime minister. She also felt burdened by the name.
This morning I drove to Mark’s place to pick up a tent. I’m thinking of going camping later this summer. The tent is a breeze to put up, but putting it away is another matter. I’m likely to have all kinds of fun and games there; I’ll have to practise before I use it for real. I met his wife who was in a moon boot; she managed to break her toe last week. She was complimentary of the level of care she’d received, saying it was much better and faster than it would have been in the UK. The NHS is a hot-button issue (as it should be) in the upcoming election.
Tennis coming up tonight. After that will be Romania’s next match at Euro 2024. They play Belgium. A draw should see them through to the next round with a game to spare.
As we pass the longest day, the temperature is forecast to drop tomorrow after four scorching days in a row. That should mean I’ll have a more comfortable time when I go away.
