Celebrate Life or Mourn Loss

I was such a grandad's girl growing up that his death hit me very badly. I couldn't believe that he would never be with me again. We would never walk the dog in the park, or go along the town to 'Lows' for the 'messages'. We would never faff about the garden & I would never learn any more Latin names for the flowers he had. I would never play in the Volkswagen Beetle again or sit on the towel rail bumpers. He would never be making making soup for my lunch from a small cube packet or collect me from the Brownies.

My grandad made me bunk beds for dolls, a K9 so I could go to a fancy dress party as Dr Who's assistant Leia.

My dad died when I was very young and Ernie took over the roll as father, protector, playmate, teacher and confidant.

I could tell my grandad anything, he never judged me. Apart from when my 1st car wasn't a Ford Scorpio Cosworth. (I think he was a bit disappointed that he didn't get to drive one) but he did seem to like my taste in Sciroccos.

Even 15 years since he died I can still remember where I was and what I was doing when the hospital called me. I was taking paint of skirting boards and listening to The Verve, aptly listening to 'The Drugs Don't Work', it took me years to be able to listen to it without bursting into tears.

If I can be half the person my grandad was then I'll be happy.

The major thing I need to acknowledge is that he wasn't just my grandad, he was a son, brother, husband, father and friend too.

My grandad's death affected me more than I thought it would, I know deep down it was a blessing as after several strokes and cancer took hold, there wasn't really much left of the man himself. He was just a shell who looked like Ernie.

I travelled to the hospital after hearing the news about my grandad, taking chocolates for the nurses who had cared for him. Bizarre but true, they had lost a fabulous patient too.

I was shell shocked and scarred by my grandma sitting at his beside repeatedly telling me that her husband wasn't dead, he was still breathing, she could hear him. I had to tell her that she was wrong, she was imagining it, her life's love had gone.

The Drugs Don't Work
However, she was the only one who was allowed to grieve. We had no right to, we hadn't loved him as much, we hadn't known him as long.

I supported my grandma as much as I could, but it wasn't enough, I wasn't my grandad and I wasn't strong enough. I failed her and failed him because I couldn't keep him alive.

So, yeah I miss Ernie. I mourn the loss of a great guy and celebrate the RAF flight engineer who came to work in Grangemouth and apart from 4 years in Egypt fixing aeroplanes, never left.

Even now, I carry him with me along with the memories of rain dances for grow his roses and being convinced every time I had a cut or scrape that 'New Skin' wouldn't nip.

Delighted to have known him, I'm super happy that my son has a fabulous papa too.

The Gateway Guardians

Ill admit that I watched 'Black Mirror: Be Right Back' last night. While part of me thought 'how cool' and wished my mum had a version of my dad up the loft, there was a part that was deeply disturbed by how much personal information I share on the World Wide Web.

I probably give away more personal information in my writing than I think I do, for example, you wouldn't have to be Sherlock to guess my age bracket, country of origin or social and cultural background.

However I do try not to be too open and forthright in case MI5 are looking to add to their file on me (if they have one of course) and now, just in case there may be any truth in the whole 'Black Mirror' thing.

However, today I'm going to share something close to my heart and that's my home town.

You see, I am a proud Portonian.

The sunny land of Portonia lies between junctions 5 and 6 on the M9 it used to called Sealock but is now more commonly known as Grangemouth.

Any how, for some months now on the M9 we have had a kind of 'faux Senna S' near to the canal and where the Helix is being constructed.

In case you have no idea what the Helix is, it's a kind of 'something for everyone area' that is being built around Falkirk. It will have walkways & cycle routes all lit up so it can be used morning noon and night. It will have allotments for budding gardeners who have no garden of their own, it will have outdoor stuff, indoor stuff, tree hugging hippy stuff and cool stuff.

We did have what I liked to call the 'Guardians' which were 2 horse head sculptures positioned at the waterway. I am 100% certain that the sculptures will be spectacular. In fact, I really should type that in capitals because the mock-ups were devastating. So here you have it..... The sculptures will be SPECTACULAR and the first delivery of 'parts' arrived today.

These horse heads will now forever be known as The Kelpies, which is quite ironic because what I considered to be guardians are in reality (which is ironic as well) supernatural creatures that like to drag people off into the water and drown them for shits and giggles (or dung and neighs).

Being a proud Portonian, I Emailed Andy Scott to ask him about the 'Kelpies'.

Happily though, Andy hit the nail on the head, he doesn't see them as kelpies either. You see, the central belt of Scotland does have a fantastic heritage of agriculture and industry and without the aid of the heavy horses in fields, along the canals and pulling carts delivering Barr's drinks we would be no where.

You can see this historical influence everywhere around the area even today from Roman Relics to buildings constructed using money donated by Andrew Carnegie to the building of The Helix, which will certainly be the Future.






- Posted by The Portonian Princess from my iPad