Bea and Bertie

The day my life changed forever started with me suggesting an innocent trip to Stratford -upon -Avon

A nice family outing for Aunt Bea, that’s me, my brother and his wife, and nephew, Bertie

It was on the fourth day of my Christmas week with the family, when we’d reached that point where fish and guests after three days……….

The trip would mean driving about 50 miles”

We’d pass my uncle’s house, it was on the way, so I could surprise him and drop off a little gift of mincemeat pies. I’d just got the Queen’s recipe.

“Where did you get it” Bertie my nephew asked., which was unusual he never has much to say to me.

“Morrisons(supermarket) flyer, last month”

“Was it her recipe, kosher?

“Don’t be silly the Queen’s not Jewish”

“She just keeps her enemies kosher (closer)” he smirked 

Cheeky little bugger, was he being sarcastic? he’d just turned seventeen.”

“Bertie was driving me to Morrisons helping me to pick up the ingredients to make the pies. Zipping around he threw the stuff in the cart. Done in no time. 

High-fiving, like kids nowadays we walked outside and there was a Women’s Institute clearance bin marked “Odds and Ends”.

“Look, Aunt Bea,” he said holding up a sealed jam jar of homemade egg nog. “Bet your uncle would love this”

 I thought it looked a bit too thick to drink , but with those big plastic straws…. maybe” So I bought it. Bertie seemed to be enjoying my company. For the first time, we were bonding

Trying to find somewhere selling those big plastic straws was impossible when Bertie suggested a new American liquor store might have them. I had to go in alone, he was underage.

“Do you sell straws? I asked in my best voice ‘cos they speak a different kind of English in America.

After a moment the slightly older of two young men with a puzzled look said. 

“I think she means Strohs”. ( beer brand) 

Hesitating a bit, the other one asked “how many ma’am?”

“Well, a pack probably would that be about fifty”? They’re a gift for my uncle he just turned ninety.

“No problem, ma’am,” he said giving me a funny look. And then he started to pack a box with tins of beer. Flummoxed, I left quickly mumbling “Thanks ever so much.!”

Back in the car, I’m telling Bertie;

“Those Americans! Do you know how they pronounce straws? 

Quiet for a moment, he says;

“Oh! no, you’re a riot, Aunt Bea.

++++

Anyway, we get to Uncle Lou’s place. I get out of the car alone, intending to just surprise him, hand over the package then be on our way. He wasn’t home,

So, I went round the back thinking he might have left the French window unlocked. At first sight of me, those two bulldogs went berserk. Jumping and lunging for’ard they crashed the window splitting a huge crack right down the middle.  

“Well I skedaddled leaving the package at the front door” 

I didn’t mention it, just got back in the car as if nothing had happened. I wanted to avoid a scene. Good old Aunt Bea, no trouble at all, just sits in a corner reading. Anyway, they were all fascinated by some big bird perched high on a branch silhouetted against the sky, wondering if it was a hawk or an eagle. I joined in the conversation. Bertie asked if it might be a bald eagle.

“Aw, No, it seems to have plenty of feathers., I said.

+++++

“We did get to Stratford, but at the Visitors Bureau they couldn’t refund our three adult and one half price tickets fast enough. Gazumped by a coach load of Japanese tourists. 

+++++

. “Let’s have a spot of lunch “ Bertie complained, “I’m a bit peckish”.

A nice little National Trust Tea Room was right beside the ruins of what was once one of the grandest castles in England. After a nice pot of tea and a fat rascal each, we decided to tour the old ruin.  

There wasn’t much to see other than fragments of a wall. 

It was dismantled by anti-royalists during the English Civil War,” Bertie told us. “Then the townsfolk just moved in and helped themselves” 

Bertie’s eyes were shining. He loved English history.  

“Look, Aunt Bea,” he said, “a lot of the buildings around here are built with the remains of the castle stone.”  

I could see my brother and his wife drooping, eyeing the nearest pub where we left them. Bertie winked, “come on, Aunt Bea, let’s explore”.

 Young Bertie’s spontaneous excitement energized me. Shedding layers of role playing built up over years - Aunt Bea the slightly dotty spinster, Bertie guessed and I think in his youthful way wanted to rescue me.  

It was like stepping out of a closed shell.

Starting with defined footpaths, the more we plunged on, the wilder the places became. I found myself crawling under barbed wire, straddling streams, and occasionally pausing to catch my breath.

 Peeling a cow pat off my shoe with the handle of my expensive alligator handbag, I thought, ruefully, it’s the first time it’s useful. 

+++++

“Look, Aunt Bea,” We were standing on a hill overlooking impossibly green meadows, flecks of white sheep, and a Church spire rising stern and solitary . “It’s England” he said quietly .”Imagine our tiny island a speck in the Atlantic Ocean not even the size of New York State but we gave to the world examples of governance, freedom, and language”.

I was soaking it up eager for more.

Then he started humming softly:

……”Give me my bow of burning gold…..”

I chimed in:

…….”Give me my arrows of desire…..”

“We sing it at the Women's Institute, love”

He was astonished I knew the words to Jerusalem.

“Am I too old to take evening classes?” 

+++++

The New Year was full of new and old dreams. I registered for University evening classes. Slowly at first, developing friendships, and learning basic computer skills. I joined a lively senior discussion group and got a divine new hairstyle.

The next Christmas I could hardly contain myself looking forward to seeing Bertie and the family.

“Aunt Bea I’m spending it with Jenny and her family before we both go to College”

It was quite natural for a young man 18 years old to have a girlfriend, but I was crushed. Did that mean going back into the old mold for me? The usual agonizing Christmas with my brother and sister-in-law.

Hell no!  as I pressed “accept” on the computer key, for my first visit to Paris with my friends in the discussion group, the week after the holiday.

I'd spend Christmas with the family but this time on my terms, and it was the best Christmas even for them,I suspected.

This time we took another trip to Stratford to the Globe Theatre for a performance of “As You Like It “ 

To quote the critic Minton “there can never be too much of a good thing.” Nor the immortal words of the Bard:

……….it’s not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves………..

All's well that ends well.