Chunks Of Family Appear

I generally go and visit the various strands of my family. It’s not that often they come to visit me. So a few days of family related visitations, while welcome, was a little odd.

On Thursday my mum came up to Birmingham, not just to visit but to stay the night. The last time she did this was 1999. I knew it would be okay but it was still a little discordant. I’m used to people who stay just crashing in the living room. Would my mum be okay with this? Is that mattress hiding behind the sofa suitable for a non-drunk person? Do I have enough bedding?

Of course it was all okay. We went for a nice walk around Bournville in the early evening where I realised I really don’t know the details of this curious area. It’s often labeled as a hoity-toity posh district but there’s a significant “working class” presence that’s true to the spirit of the Bournville family. Mum was asking how other areas could replicate this idil since efforts like dumping a garden in a sink estate don’t tend to work very well. I think there’s a combination of history and tipping point going on here, something like the Broken Windows theory. In other less-buzz-words there’s enough niceness here that only a fool would reject it. There was a bunch of blokes in footie tops, the like of which would not seem out of place in your standard boozer, playing Lawn Bowls as we walked through the park. You wouldn’t see that in Kingstanding.

That’s not to say Bournville is a utopia of Disney-esque levels. There are youths who drink beer on the green and the odd spots of graffiti here and there, but the level of niceness is pushed up to such a degree that these things don’t really have any effect.

Friday morning mum and I went into central Brum for a few hours before her train left. I was at a slight loss as to what we would do as I don’t spend much time wandering around the centre. It’s all shops and I don’t shop as a rule. But the new-to-her Bull Ring was of aesthetic interest and we found ourselves in the Selfridges food hall for a laugh at the general absurdity of it all.

Then we wandered over to the markets which I’d glanced at a while back and decided were not of interest. Seems I was deeply and horribly wrong. They’re fucking brilliant. Buckets of fruit, veg, meat and fish fresh from the wholesale market behind them and at stupidly low prices. I will have to make regular trips there on the bike to stock up. It’s also a good spot for photos with some real characters doing the selling. I guess running a market stall all your life does strange things to the face.

Mum went off and I had about 36 hours to myself before the Chilbertos, being my sister and her brood, turned up on Sunday morning to combine a family day out with visiting Uncle Pete. Spike is smiling and Isobel is pretty much talking. It’s cool. We went to the Birmingham Nature Centre as recommended by pretty much everyone with kids I’d asked, and many without. It’s brilliant. Dirt cheap to get in and after three hours we’d only gone round once.

Kiddie pics were taken, naturally, but I’m kinda proud of some of them so have inflicted a few upon this post. It’s interesting looking at that photo set as there’s a marked difference in my photography (and Photoshop post-processing-fu) between now and Xmas, I think for the better.

All in all it was a lovely, if somewhat exhausting, few days. The kids in particular made me realise how slowed down my life has become. When they went off home Andy Zoop and Celeste were in the kitchen and I felt like either I was speeding or they were trapped in some time-vortex. A cup of tea later and I was back with them though. The kids are terrific but I think I’ll stick with what I’ve got for now, for the sake of balance if nothing else.