Perfect Family Tales And Other Trivia

The art of the short-story writer is that of the cartoonist. It is the magical craft of creating entire worlds with a few simple strokes of a pen. Tales told by an idiot? Maybe! But my tales are also a mix of reality and fantasy; truth and lies; some based on my own family; others, not. Readers must guess which characters are real; who are inventions - and who are an amalgam of both. Please draw the boundaries for yourself.

Saturday, 23 June 2012

‘The Blurred Bride’

Blurred.BrideThis is the only picture I have of Katie on her wedding day. It’s blurred because I snapped it on my phone over the hedge at Kendal Leisure Gardens from a distance of about fifty feet.

My lips pucker involuntarily whenever I look at it, knowing I could have been there and that the clearest item in view is the hat I loaned Laura, my daughter-in-law,  who was a witness for the happy pair.

But don’t think I’m bitter. I’m more aggravated than aggrieved as  the new Mr and Mrs Gerard Lewis gave Peter and me every chance to attend.

Katie said Gerard’s convinced we wouldn’t go because we resent him for being 15 years older than her and a staunch Methodist. He won’t be persuaded that it’s an internal family argument because Katie must always have her own way.

She says that as an independent woman of  34 and a junior partner in a successful accountancy practice, she does not need our permission every time she needs to blow  her nose!

But Peter and I maintain it’s our right as parents to make her wedding; have a say in the guest list, venue and food.

On the day of our row, she made things worse, first by announcing  that the wedding was about her, not us.  Then - quite nastily - she reminded us that she and  Gerry were paying for everything themselves and that many parents would be thrilled to be chief guests rather than anxious hosts at a party celebrating the most important day of their daughter’s life.

Some weeks later, she sent us a glorious bouquet and another invitation to the ‘do’ but we didn’t respond. We wanted her to visit us to talk about it. Instead, when we met by chance in the street near the grocer,  she said they were entitled at least to an acknowledgement of their gift and invitation. This would have been the sort of good manners we had taught her! Cheeky puss! Fancy my little girl talking to me like that!

In the end, wanting to do right, we sent her a cheque for £25.00 with a note signed “love from Mum and Dad.”

Now we’ll let her get on with her life without any help from us. Not even if things get rough; which they will. No-one gets away scot-free. Nowhere; no way. 1000words badge






Natalie Wood

(Copyright, Natalie Irene Wood – 23 June 2012)


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