'Your Grandmother is coming this weekend, Darling.' Penelope received this news with anticipation. There was a history to Grandma her parents didn't talk about. Penelope hoped to learn more.
After the usual greetings Grandma settled down.
'I want a word with you Penelope. We can talk while your mother gets the meal ready and the other two watch that damn football.
'That would be smashing.'
'Penelope. Why your parents choose that name I will never know. It will be shortened to Penny, which people will bore everyone by asking you to spend it, or Pen and you will be asked to write a letter or, worse still P which goes back to spending a penny.'
'That's why I stick to Penelope'
'You do that as long as you can.'
'Not that my name's much better. Barbara gets shortened to Babs or B. 'Are you with the BBC' some wet asked me once before I socked him in the eye. Your father is a square, Penelope. The only worthwhile thing he got from me is his talent at Maths.'
'He's a Conservative, Grandma.'
'Don't I know. After all we did for him!'
'Did you have many lovers, Grandma?'
'Not enough.'
'I have love for one person, Grandma.'
'That's fine.'
'Didn't you sing with a band, Grandma?'
'Yes. I sang what is called the Blues. Those were the days in England when the South was South London and the Deep South was Surrey with New Orleans being the millionaire's estate of St George's Hill in Weybridge.'
'Didn't the Rolling Stones get their ideas from the Blues, Grandma?'
'Yes. They did pretty well and were fairly authentic in their way.'
'How about you. Were you pretty authentic?'
'I love the Blues and I tried to sing like Billie Holiday, but the soul of the Blues must be your own experience and I could never have that in the same way, although I had my own experience of suffering.'
'My goodness! I can see why Mummy and Daddy hardly told me a thing about you. But I think you're the tops.'
