Thursday, January 16, 2014

Uncles

I had an uncle once. His name was Andrew. He had thick skin that was surprisingly soft and tiny eyes that sometimes seemed almost human. He liked peanuts and mangoes, but rather surprisingly detested currant buns. I was never sure if it was the currants he particularly objected to, or the yeasty surroundings, but if I'd been at all curious I suppose I could have done some kind of controlled experiment with a plain, non-fruited bun and found out that way. This didn't occur to me at the time however, and now the opportunity has passed.

In the height of summer my uncle would often take himself to a nearby river and wade majestically into the water, throwing great arcs of weeds and spray over his shoulder and groaning with delight. Sometimes he let me sit on his head as he slowly submerged himself, and then - as I started to swim - re-emerge beneath me with a snort and a rueful smile. If my friends were quiet and well-behaved sorts, Andrew would carry heavy objects for them:- such as Italian handmade sandals, rich tea biscuits or their stamp collections. If the friend was less than magnanimous though, woe betide him as he would surely know my uncle's disapproval and any longstanding invitation to our legendary bird barbecues or the family's annual nutmeg hunt would quietly be withdrawn.

Tragically Andrew died in the summer of 1978 when I was 16 years old. He was buried at Arlington Cemetery in Washington DC with full military honours. He is survived by my aunt Patricia and his two sons Chester and Flumbo.

Labels: , ,

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home