Back by popular demand (OK, so I’m fantasising again, no change there), the Johnston family Christmas newsletter…
January started with the usual boiler failure which in our house can always be guaranteed to precede the coldest point of the year. OK for Graeme who was away setting up a new Internet bank in Norwich, not so good for everybody else. Judith attended the funeral of an old friend and Thistle, our senior cat, was in serious decline (and had dwindled away by Easter). Fleur was having problems with a knee, consulting an excellent local (but Scottish) surgeon, getting physio from his wife and lots of TLC from everybody else. With retirement less than a year away Graeme’s office e-mails contained as part of the heading the number of days left to go, talk about rubbing it in …
February got off to a good start with a delightful weekend in Southwold at Sally and Max Johnson’s new holiday home. Very bijou and a squeeze for the four of us but lots of fun. Graeme’s project moved briefly to Edinburgh for collaboration with the Royal Bank of Scotland (déjà vu, since that’s where his career started). Fleur had her (third) knee operation, has the keyhole pictures to prove it and started a two-month period of sick leave involving lots of pain-killers and physio at least twice a week. The parental taxi service was in full operation to support her social life until she could drive again. The month ended with Aida in the Round at the Albert Hall; visually stunning even if musically just so-so.
Graeme’s project ended abruptly in March when the customer realised that the black hole into which it was throwing its money was probably bottomless, but he ended up back in Edinburgh almost immediately managing a project for the Bank of Scotland. Visited old friends in Cheltenham for a very enjoyable murder mystery weekend, Judith a very dippy Madame Arcati look-alike and Graeme a sort of Blashford-Snell action man (how appropriate) [dream on, sunshine – Ed] in a military moustache. Graeme joined Judith’s Art History class once again (anything for a free trip) for a whistle-stop tour of Antwerp, Amsterdam, Haarlem and The Hague to study Dutch Masters; lots of Vermeers and Rembrandts, and a splendid evening out in Amsterdam. At one point we had a good ten minutes alone in a tiny room with five small, almost pocket-sized Rembrandts – Oh! the temptation.
Got back from Holland all cultured-out with just enough time to unpack, repack, get two hours sleep and then set off (with Fleur) for a very welcome week of R&R in Paphos. Sunshine, nice meals, lots of brandy sours (for Judith), shopping, relaxation and convalescence for Fleur before returning to work. No other big events in April, other than that Judith took up salsa dancing and the Bank of Scotland gave Graeme a nice serviced apartment in Edinburgh, used from this point on by the family for occasional weekends.
May saw our little friend Alexander christened in Little Baddow. Our lady Canon has a great fund of wicked stories; she could be a stand-up comic as a sideline (maybe she is). Perfect family service with a nice party afterwards. Open Gardens day in Little Baddow was the usual success with cream teas at a neighbour’s house and an opportunity to look over the garden of our old house, transformed by pots of money into finely manicured but completely sterile perfection (along with memorial garden and urns!). At least Rory and Fleur were pleased to find that their ‘Secret Seven’ shed had survived.
In June Fleur visited Alton Towers by car (her first really long solo drive) and we enjoyed a great party at the golf club to celebrate a friend’s 75th birthday. Mid month we very sadly lost Maurice, an old, dear friend. The funeral was held on a beautiful summer day in our lovely English country churchyard; the service was very moving, and so well attended that it was standing room only for latecomers. The following day Judith and Graeme set off for a few days in Rome. Perfect weather, wonderful food and breathtaking surroundings. Walked miles, and Judith wants to go back soon for the chocolate ice cream. While we were there Roma won the Serie A (football) championship. There then ensued several days of enthusiastic flag waving, car horn tooting and generally amiable intoxication which made the holiday unforgettable. And we managed to get to the Vatican museum twice, but still haven’t done it all.
Edinburgh in July for a short break to see the family and maximise use of the apartment. Fleur went to the Milton Keynes open air Bowl for a Robbie Williams gig and came back sunburnt on one side only; very fetching. Judith gave up salsa’ing (far too strenuous for a lady of her advancing years) and transferred to ballroom and Latin American; also spent much time bobbing about in an inflatable armchair in the pool perfecting her tan (both sides). The little red car was sold and Judith got a splendid new set of wheels chosen very largely because of its leather seats, sunglasses holder and handbag hook; the good news is that it has a fantastic sound system; the bad news is that this encourages Judith to sing; the good news is that she only does it when on her own (by order).
August was Graeme’s retirement month. Never has a (second) retirement been milked for so many parties. Nice end of project parties in Edinburgh, and a wonderful garden party at home on a hot, sunny Sunday (yes, there was one), for which old friends Andrina and Les came to stay. And then a splendid seven-hour lunch with lots of IBM friends in London; we had planned to do the London Eye after but were in no fit state… Later in the month Judith and Fleur enjoyed a trip up to London to see Martine McCutcheon and Dennis Waterman in My Fair Lady.
Many celebrations were planned for Graeme’s mother’s 80th birthday in Edinburgh mid month, but unfortunately she became too unwell to attend. Such a pity since all of her family was present and that would have given her great pleasure. Her condition deteriorated a week later and Graeme rushed back up to Edinburgh in time to be with her and the rest of the family at the end. She had made it to 80, but her last few years were dogged by ill health with poor quality of life and many periods in local hospitals; we used to joke with her that she was compiling the Bedpan guide to Edinburgh hospitals. She bore her many tribulations with great courage, never complained, kept her sense of mischief to the end and is sorely missed. If there is a consolation, it is that Graeme worked in Edinburgh for most of the year up to her death and was able to visit her twice a week, a rare treat when we live so far away. We were especially pleased that Graeme’s cousin Neville managed to get up to Edinburgh for the funeral and we are looking forward to visiting Neville and Lorna when next travelling through Yorkshire.
In September Fleur signed up for two evening classes a week, psychology and human biology; this only slightly curtails her otherwise hectic social life, and she still manages to get to the gym most days. After eight years, Judith managed to shed her school governors responsibilities. This should provide more evening time for dancing, gym, Tai Chi, etc., but in practice provides more time for falling asleep in front of the TV. The month also saw a new kitten, thought to be a boy and named Campbell; a subsequent trip to the vet put us right and she is now officially Amber, unofficially Psycho. Very pretty, ever so slightly spoiled, and George (the senior cat) is close to a nervous breakdown.
We were in London enjoying the Vermeer and ‘Ingres to Matisse’ exhibitions when a taxi driver told us about the World Trade Centre disaster, which we then watched unfold in a bar. Words are not adequate to the task of describing our emotions either then or subsequently, and we fear that through this madness the world has changed forever.
Rory and Amanda told us to keep Saturday 15th September free for a surprise. Could they? Would they? Should Judith buy a new hat? Sadly, no. After many devious (but not very subtle) investigations she discovered it was Proms in the Park with a picnic; a really nice night out and fitting that an American (Leonard Slatkin) should be at the helm this year of all years. A very appropriate Last Night of the Proms programme with much sympathy and support all round for the victims of the terrorist attacks in the USA.
To celebrate retirement and birthday Graeme bought himself two flash presents in October, a new computer system for faster Internet surfing and a shiny new Jaguar [taking a leaf out of John Prescott’s book, he’s now known as One Jag Johnston – Ed]. All Johnston cars are now in matching silver. The car arrived in time for us to take it up to Edinburgh to inter his mother’s ashes in the family grave at Polmont and join in a lovely party in Linlithgow for nephew Jordan’s sixth birthday. Rory and Amanda joined us to share a surprise birthday meal, and Graeme and Judith had an amazingly full day out in London. This included an antiques fair, the Rembrandt and Masaccio exhibitions, lunch, the London Eye (at last), the Imax cinema, the Coutts Pensioners’ Christmas party and, finally, Buddy. Yes, we oldies can still rock and roll with the best of them, even if 1000% knackered the next day [I had to work next day but wilted badly in the afternoon – Ed].
Events in Afghanistan have put paid (at least for the time being) to Graeme’s plans to do occasional consultancy for IBM in the Middle East. So for now he has registered as a government statistic and delights in driving his Jag down to the broo to sign on… [For non-Scots readers, broo = job centre – Ed].
Judith’s birthday arrived (as usual) in November, celebrated with a trip to the theatre and a splendid family meal at a local restaurant. Terry and Rita wrenched themselves away from the shop in Weymouth and arrived for an overnight stay; really good to see them even if Terry has secretly started smoking again (yes, we did notice). And the boiler failed just in time for the coldest point in the year (this winter to date) (déjà vu) [like the rest of us it’s showing its age – Ed].
Otherwise, the pace of social life continues to accelerate as we approach Christmas; only four more parties to attend before our own, not counting dinner parties. Judith and Fleur are going to New York for mother/daughter bonding (but mostly for shopping) in January, and we managed to get some ridiculously cheap flights for two weeks in Orlando in February to celebrate Fleur’s 21st birthday. Rory and Amanda will be coming with us, now all we need is a nice cheap villa …
If you think we have neglected Rory in this newsletter, think again; his text follows (we thought it was only married men who had to spend alternate Sundays in IKEA). But before you get to that we want to wish you a very happy Christmas and an outstandingly happy, healthy and prosperous year in 2002. Go on, have another mince pie; go on, go on, go on …
Graeme & Judith ([email protected], [email protected])
Hello all.
The whole thing’s boring, smug and very middle-class. I can’t believe anyone really wants to read this. This is our final word on this matter, well, except for these…
We have been on holidays to excessively carnivorous Sardinia, crime-filled Barcelona and terrorist-infested Pamplona in Spain, Edinburgh (three times), Cornwall, the over-crowded Swedish enclaves of IKEA, the disappointingly flat Chilterns and the Peak District. We have also been go-karting, quad-biking in torrential rain, gliding, been in the audience of ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’, got fat, joined the gym, still doing Ju-Jitsu, realised the futility of life and work, watched far too much TV, and we have decorated everything in our flat except the kitchen.
Amanda has left her high tech career with an Internet company and started undermining KPMG. Rory has almost done 18 months with One2One (and is due for parole soon) [hopefully not the enforced kind – Ed].
Rory’s greatest crime this year: being drunk in charge of a Scrabble board (and a Christmas letter).
Amanda’s greatest crime this year: not telling her boss what she thought of him when she had the chance.
Amanda’s greatest crime this year (according to Rory): getting us lost in the Pyrenees after saying she’d been on that route millions of times before, knew it like the back of her hand and then giving me a guilt-trip when I dared to suggest that this didn’t look like the way we’d come up. We ended up having to sleep in the forest without any tents or sleeping bags (and it was freezing!!).
Coming up in next year’s letter (yes, I bet you can hardly wait)…
- We will have built or bought a new kitchen,
- Rory will have started planning the house he will eventually build,
- We will have been on some more holidays,
- We will have been forced to write another bourgeois end-of-year letter.
Now, go back to your sausage rolls and prepare for the revolution.
Rory [email protected]