Monday Memories - Did I tell you I love figs?

It was my brother's 21st birthday. We had all gathered at a big fancy restaurant for dinner. How fancy? Well, I was wearing a long dress and long gloves! It must have been pretty fancy, but my dress would not have disguised the fact that I was pregnant. Apart from ourselves and my brother, my parents, and two uncle and aunts were there, along with a couple of cousins. We had great fun, lots of chatter, lots of wine including champagne (I'm trying to set the scene here!). The dishes were served silently, coming and going with an effortless ease. We didn't really notice the waiters, it was a really special evening.

I have no memory of the first or main course. They must have been good, or I would have remembered them as bad. Finally the dessert menu was presented, and I chose fresh figs. Well......

It now transpired that the Maitre d' was Greek. He suddenly went into ecstasy mode.! The whole restaurant became silent and everyone looked in our direction. 'Madame! Madame! Madame, she want figs! Madame, she want fresh figs! She want FIGS! She is pregnant and she want FIGS! In my country, we know when a lady want figs when she is pregnant, she is expecting a boy. More champagne! She is expecting a boy.' He went on in this vein for some time, the whole restaurant cheered, and we did indeed get a free bottle of champagne. I duly ate my figs and went home.

Three months later I gave birth to our daughter.

Monday Memory, Or the Tale of a Pig

This is a true story.

Once upon a time there was a pig. We will call him Monty.

Monty lived on a farm, and, although he was well cared for, he sometimes got lonely because his only companions were cows and turkeys. Sometimes Monty would go for a walk in the hope that he would find another pig to talk to, but the farmer always found him before he had time to get very far.

One sunny day Monty shook the pigsty door until it opened. Walking across the farmyard he pushed yet another hole through the hedge and began to walk along the lane. He was big and fat, so he walked slowly, sniffing the air for interesting smells, especially as his eyesight was poor. He could see a shadow ahead, and as he approached he could tell that it smelt interesting.

It was a car with the boot up, but Monty didn't recognise it as such, to him it smelt like a food trough, for languishing in the boot was a large sack of horse feed. Monty didn't know that the feed was only meant for horses, he thought it had been put there just for him, so with an enormous amount of effort he pulled himself into the boot and began to devour the feed, packaging and all. It was delicious, and he was really surprised when suddenly there was much commotion and the farmer arrived with a very irate man who demanded compensation! Without ceremony Monty was returned to the lonely pigsty.

Holes in the hedge were reinforced and an extra strong bolt was put on the pigsty door. Monty was fed more than usual, but that was no problem, he could always find space for another morsel. But one day he began to feel lonely again, and he knew what he had to do.... With enormous effort he pulled himself over the door of the pigsty. He fell with a bump, but although a little sore he walked towards the hedge. He felt a little like an Olympic pole vaulter, he felt that he had set a record for pigs, the hedge would be easy, in spite of reinforcements.

He began to walk along the lane. The sun was shining, and that shape was there again. Monty sniffed the air. Sure enough, it was waiting with food for him. However, when he got there he discovered that the food was covered up! (The boot was closed). Now what to do? The more he sniffed the air the more he wanted the food. How could he get to it? Monty was a resourceful pig, he walked around the car sniffing as he went. As he got to the driver's door the smell intensified. Hooray, someone had thoughtfully left the driver's window open. Here was a way in.

Getting through the window was not easy, but having done so Monty was in heaven. On the back seat was a sack of horse feed, exactly the same as the one he had eaten before! Such delight! He chomped his way through it. It was delicious! (Isn't forbidden food ALWAYS the sweetest?). When finished he sat for a moment to make sure that nothing was left, the smell of food was still strong, although nowhere in sight. Yes, he could still smell something, and then he realised that the smell was coming from behind the seat. Sure enough, there was another sack in the car boot, but how could he get to that?

The pig who had scaled the pigsty door, pushed through reinforced hedge AND climbed in through a car window knew no limitations. It wasn't very tasty, but Monty now began to tug and tear at the back of the seat, and before long he had access to the rest of the food. Once he had his head far enough through to eat he stopped pushing and just ate. He thought he was in heaven before, but this must be it, because there were two sacks waiting for him. Delicious!

When he had finished, however, Monty began to panic. He was now firmly wedged with his head and shoulders stuck through the back seat and his rear end jammed up against the back of the front seats. He couldn't move... How was he going to get out? He began to twist from side to side in the hope that he could free himself, but this only served to make the car rock, and this rocking drew the attention of a passing postman.

Car owner and farmer were duly summoned. More compensation was demanded, Monty heard the words, but didn't know what they meant. What had he done wrong? The farmer bundled Monty into a trailer and off they went. Regrettably, not to the pigsty.....

Monday Memory

As you read down this post you will find a long gap. Before you scroll further to read my memory for this Monday I would like you to search into your own. Do you have children? If not, consider a memory from your own past that fits into this scenario...

Think about an occasion - maybe long ago - when your child (or you) was very naughty.....

You don't have to make any admissions here, these thoughts are private, just bring something to mind before you read on.

Here begins the gap.
















And here it ends....

In the following narrative the names have been changed to protect the innocent! The story, however, is true.

Several years ago we lived in a small community. Our children were very small, in fact our youngest was barely walking. There were few local playmates, but there was one little boy who lived across the road. We will call him John. He led a very protected and sheltered life, and it was unusual for him to be allowed to play with other children, however, our daughter had obviously passed whatever test was set, and she was often invited over to play by his mother whom we will call Susan.

One morning, after only about half an hour there was a knock on the door. Susan was standing at the door holding our DD's hand, and clutching John firmly to her bosom. I could see that something was wrong, but couldn't imagine what it could be. The story unfolded....

DD had found a pair of scissors and had cut John's hair. She had never done anything like it before, and has not done anything like it since. To be honest, as I looked, I couldn't see anything wrong with the hair, but I was appalled that she had done such a thing. She was suitably chastised, and I presumed that the relationship with the family had been severed for ever. Certainly relationships were cool for the rest of the month. One morning, however, at coffee time the doorbell rang. Susan was standing on the step, John firmly in tow. I invited them in. DD was delighted to see him, and before long they were playing happily together.

On the afternoon of the incident Susan had taken John to a child's birthday party. All the mothers had oohed and aahed over the haircut and requested the name and address of the barber! Family members had also expressed delight at how good his hair looked when they attended a wedding the next day, in fact, although she had never admitted that it had been cut by a four year old, the general concensus was that John had never looked so smart or like a boy. We ended up laughing about the whole incident, and we still chuckle over it to this day.

The moral? Well, all children are naughty, and maybe your child has just done something you would rather forget. However, I'm fairly certain that sometime in the future you too will be able to regard it with a certain amount of amusement, without condoning the action either at the time or now. Memory is a wonderful thing....