Chuntering on at Chartwell & Channelling the Inner Churchillian
Alliteration eh? Seems that too much of a poetic device becomes nothing but a cheap tongue twister.
Anyway, we went to Winston Churchill’s home at Chartwell today and we didn’t fight anyone, anywhere – although it seemed for a moment there that the serried ranks of grey-haired volunteers at the front door might like to if we didn’t rein back the kids. The goons were over-reacting though because the children’s behaviour was impeccable. Come to think of it – they were the only children I saw in the house today – unless you count a solitary teenage boy and the ones in utero. As my sister observed, half the country’s expectant mothers had visited the National Trust at Chartwell today.
Seeing my sister, who is I believe my closest genetic match in the world, is always something I enjoy. I used to enjoy it rather too much and get a headache from excitement before we had even met up when we were younger. It was so exciting, back then. Both of us working in London, everything new. Now we are both the mother of two girls and probably too old for full on excitation, but I am still aware, despite my trying to hold back (a bit), I still don’t half chunter on. The poor thing probably wishes I would occasionally shut up…
So here is something from the eldest niece. A rather marvellous upgrade on the Churchill quote that usually runs something like this:
A cat looks down on you, a dog looks up to you, but a pig will treat you as an equal
Today’s updated version, and better for it I would say – far less predictable – goes thus:
A cat looks down on you, a dog looks up to you, but a pig will treat you as a hamster