June 1, 1933
The younger children have been on their half term holiday this week, free of the classroom just in time to soak up the end of the late spring weather. It just so happened that Ben came home on the very first day, his summer break already underway, so that for the first time since Christmas we are all under the same roof. We were all excited to see him, but Ilse particularly so, as they had a special outing planned. Ben’s first and most important job was to take her to choose a new hamster.
In the end there were eight of us who went along: Ilse, Ben, Seb, Fliss, my brother Pete and his two children, and myself. Crowding out the little pet shop we found only one hamster available, a fluffy white one with a pink nose and faintly buff patches on either side of his face. We can’t imagine why he was left til last; he is very sweet if still a little nervous. Ilse has named him Albus, and Ben is helping her to handle him every evening.
Apart from wandering through the village to the pet shop, and a day in York enjoying, amongst other things, ices in the Minster Gardens, all the cousins really wanted to do was spend time with one another. Seb had been given a brand new game, Monopoly*, which they played no fewer than six times in four days. When the sun shone they spread a rug under the apple tree and played there for a long afternoon, punctuated only by a water fight. They know each other very well, despite the distance between Yorkshire and Devon, and each visit seems to develop a theme. This time it was Monopoly; in the past it has been devising plays, or dressing up, or, in Greece, swimming in the warm Aegean Sea.
We saw Mother and Father as much as we were able, and I must say that four late nights of sitting up and chatting rather took it out of me. I’m sure I used to be able to stay up much later, but I will confess that having taken them to the station to catch the southbound train, I came straight in and fell asleep on the settee, wireless on, knitting in my hands. An early night was had, and another one tonight should do the trick. Having guests is rather like going away on holiday: it forces you to break with routines and makes it so much more of a holiday. Time is spent sharing news and stories, rather than doing the weeding, and that is just as it should be. The jobs can wait. What matters is spending time with family, building connections between those in the new generation and strengthening existing sibling bonds.
It seemed that the jobs would wait today, too, as Father and I headed to a little farm on the far side of York to make a few pleasurable purchases. First were the flowers for the pots in Father’s yard: bee-loving annuals, and a spill of cheerful red geraniums. After that, we walked past the donkey and the little field of goats, through a gate where there were new puppies to pet, and on to the chicken shed. There must have been a hundred pullets in there, and we spent fifteen minutes chasing them around, failing to catch a single one, while Ilse looked on and laughed. Eventually the farmer reappeared with a box to put them in and caught two, just like that. One is a grey, speckled hen with a white bib, rather like a barn owl, so we’ve named her Hedwig. The other, black with a collar of copper feathers, puts us in mind of a phoenix, and of course she is named Fawkes. So although the cousins have gone home and the house is suddenly quieter, we have three new residents who need to be sat by and gazed at. Which means that we are still very much on holiday, and the jobs will just have to wait until next week. There’s plenty happening this half term holiday as it is.
* Actually, Monopoly came out in 1935, so the children wouldn’t have been able to play it in 1933. However, they could have played Coppit, which came out in 1927 and was a firm favourite when we were children. Or Touring England, which lived in a cupboard in my grandad’s dining room and came out every time we went to stay.