Confessions of a Free Range Prolapsed Catholic

I remember my Mother being absolutely horrified when she heard her older ,(much older) wiser sister, shared a reflection on my Father’s approaching retirement. with her.

My father was a highly respected journalist. He had represented the country a couple of times with other national journalists. Invitation from the British High Commission courtesy of BOAC ( I think) in the 1960s, and the first flight of South African Airways. He was the editor of the Newcastle Sun. He oversaw the change from printing press to Visual Display Terminals about 1980! They were referred to as VDTs. At the time I was a bit embarrassed about that because the only VD I had heard of was venereal disease transmission!

So my very high brow Aunt ( married to a Town Clerk) was a bit like a member of the Royal Family. In a conversation with my mother, she expressed her concern for Dad, stuck in retirement with just Mum. “Oh dear. Pat, I feel sorry for him. Whatever will he do now for intelligent conversation?” Mum’s blood pressure must have gone sky high ! Her greatest and most impactful response to that kind of comment from anyone, sent her into stone cold silence. She had a doctorate in that!

Just over 24 hours ago, in my own bedroom I heard the following discourse between my husband (77) and our youngest son(38). I’ve been retired since 2015.

“Dad! The toilet roll’s a different colour” Removing his headphones the reply was “What?” Unable to resist I yelled, “The cylinder is white cardboard, not brown cardboard!” As well as over projection (from my singing training )there may have been a bit of venom in my tone because not all residents ever see the final empty cylinder. Being the only one with eyes to see this regular event, I remove and the roll, having ripped the last three sheets of loo paper left and replace.

However! “Oh yeah” replies Triple L. “Why do you think they did that?’ from offspring. “Its 3 ply” replies the Oracle. “And the pattern on the sheet is different!” I exploded. WHY! SILENCE IS GOLDEN!

And immediately, I was transported back to my pontificating Aunt. Wonderful as she was. She taught me how to play canasta and cribbage. She smoked with the assistance of a long, elegantly tapered cigarette holder, she corrected my pronunciation, she lambasted me for changing from my going to church outfit in the middle of summer in Moree, into my favourite shorts and shirt. Sophisticated, terrifying, so intelligent. I loved her completely and I still do.

BUT suddenly I was my Mother! Filled with horror and frustration at the length of time these two beloved of mine, discussed, with such fascination the colour of the cylinder of the 3 ply toilet roll.

And as ever, as always, I took the bait! My response? Collect the knitting, my reading glasses, my hat and plonk my sulking self to the sun in the back yard and discuss it all with the only other female in the house, our pooch Lexxi-Louise!

We girls have got to stick together!