DAY HUNDRED SIXTY THREE - in the pink

To welcome me, in my new room – ‘Pinkie,’ the traditional title for the 1794 portrait of Sarah Barrett Moulton, by Thomas Lawrence, a leading English portrait painter, from the permanent collection of the Huntington Library (a beautiful museum that holds very early memories for me, a place our mother took Sam and me often – those first stirrings of culture and art, when we came to spend our summers with her parents in California), at San Marino, California, where it hangs opposite The Blue Boy by Thomas Gainsborough. (Upon inquiry, Loraine admits there is no ‘Blue Boy’ anywhere hiding about the premises. Too bad – Pinkie needs him here, close by.)

A golden framed print of this painting is a part of me as far back as I can remember. It hung on the walls of my maternal grandparents’ home, from where it eventually came to live in my own bedroom when I was teenager (probably about the time they were forced to downsize in their declining years). There was the pair of them, Pinkie and Blue Boy* – oh, how I loved them! I used to gaze longingly into the misty depths portrayed in their pastoral backgrounds, and imagine that I, too, was there. Another one of those early embedded ‘anglophilian’ things that got started long before I was old enough to realize what was happening.  (What became of these paintings? I have NO idea. All I know is that they did not follow me into my adult life.)

*[Here’s an interesting diversion I came across, a blog post titled, Daisy Fairbanks talks about life and style: ‘Pink is complicated. I can't think of another color that is as politically charged, and it's no surprise given the cultural history of pink. Until the early 20th century, blue was thought of as the color of virtue and passivity and associated with the Virgin Mary, and was therefore ascribed to girls, while red, and its paler shade of pink, was thought of as a masculine color associated with strength and might (as in the British Redcoats.)

‘There has been a great diversity of opinion on the subject, but the
generally accepted rule is pink for the boy and blue for the girl. The
reason is that pink being a more decided and stronger color is more
suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty,
is prettier for the girl.’ (Ladies Home Journal, June, 1918)

After WWII, men returned to the workforce wearing either plain shirtsleeves and denim or the ubiquitous gray flannel suit, while designers had an entire color palette with which to support the modern woman's return to her "traditional" identity as home maker and consumer. Children's clothing manufacturers were divided as to which sex should be represented by what color. Greeting card companies, however, followed Thomas Gainsborough's "Blue Boy" and "Pinky" and began to assign the opposite palette when creating birth announcements. Within a short few years, the new gender/color assignment began to take hold – and stuck!’]

Whoa, I’m totally back to Grimsby, back to the sea – the sound of the seagulls greeting me first thing as I rose to consciousness this morning. I had really liked that sound before, back in July – kind of unreal, almost like you’re in the middle of a storybook, or something.

Another thing I really liked about Grimsby was the proximity to shopping – and Weymouth is the same, only EVEN better, because of its resort status! Within walking distance to me is every store you could imagine – including a good deal of charity shops - my favorite! (To date, haven’t had a moment of free time to begin investigating! But that’s okay, because they’re not going anywhere – and neither am I!)

That said, it follows right along that I DID indeed need to go out and do some shopping for some needed supplies today. The very first thing I found myself needing, and emphatically so, was an adaptor for my computer. I had not brought the one Myfanwy had loaned me – and I had burned up the original one I brought with me that I got at BYU. And I knew enough that, if you could find one, it was NOT an expensive gadget – the trick was merely finding one in the first place! That’s when I discovered all the different stores – everything you could imagine (everything excepting an adapter)!  At first, all I could find was an adapter for British people going abroad. Well, of course – what else would you expect! Finally came upon a nice big, ‘well-stocked with EVERY sort of thing’ Wilkinsons (Wilko for short). A helpful sales girl led me to the electrical aisle, and looking, looking . . . they had one – whew! Hurray! I REALLY needed that or, without it, my life would have come to an immediate stand still! (I love that it was labeled ‘For Visitors to the UK.’ Imagine in America using words with that sort of designation on a product – silly!)

Second in importance to finding a plug to resurrect my failing ‘eveready’ computer going was investigating where the closest Aldi might be. I am quite addicted to that store – it would have been massive withdrawals getting over it. Thankfully, I won’t have to,as I discovered that Weymouth has one within easy walking distance of where I live. (Postscript: I learned today, in Aldi’s,  that what I have been pronouncing as ALL-dee, all this time, is more correctly said as AL-dee. Can’t believe it has taken me this long to find that out – went all those months in Birmingham and my ear never did make that distinction!)

With these things in mind, my shopping foray began with me asking umpteen questions – probably of ten different persons before I actually got there – to find out the location of an information center. I was on a mission:  for a map of Weymouth – so I could start to figure out the lay of the land AND so I could get myself to Aldi. (In just the little bit of my going out today, I could see instantly that this will be a delightful place for any of you to come and visit, with so many things to do, see, and enjoy!)

After my success at Wilkinson’s, stopped by a store called Matalan, on my way to Aldis, where I purchased a pair of sky blue, luxury, 100% Egyptian cotton face towels. The hotel has white: white everything – white towels, white linens, including duvet covers. What are they thinking?! I can hardly bear the thought that the mere act of washing my face is going to result in mascara on their nice white face towels, aka washcloths to you. (Now, since using this cloth, it is looking more and more like it is SO thick that it will NEVER dry out – seriously!) In Aldi I got me some apples, bananas, and some nice plump mandarins, like they grow in McKay’s neighborhood; also stocked up on some greens and peanut butter.

Another matter of interest: the weather – something I ALWAYS want to know about! You’ll get the picture if I say ‘Birmingham is to Weymouth as Provo is to St. George’ – weather-wise anyway. Leaving the house today (I’m going to refer to it as my house, because it’s where I live, even though in reality it is a hotel . . .), I needed no more than a light jacket. If you were running, you wouldn’t need anything other than your plain short-sleeved shirt. There will be NO white Christmas here, I can tell you – I think I could get used to this!

When I came back through the front door after shopping, Loraine met me and indicated I should follow her, saying, ‘join us in the parlor.’ I thought maybe she and her staff were having a meeting or something and wanted me to sit in. But who should it be, but the visiting teachers – Sister Trueman and Sister Chasteauneuf?! (You know you can’t escape those good visiting teachers – they’re everywhere, and that is true world-wide! Conversely, during the conversation, the subject of home teachers came up. I was saying that during the four months I’d been in Birmingham, I had had no visiting teachers or home teachers. Everyone laughed and proceeded to try to up each other on how long it had been since they’d seen home teachers. Of course, the king of the hill was the one who said that they weren’t even ASSIGNED home teachers! Sorry brethren – but, as you no doubt know, it’s a universal situation often lamented by the sisters in the gospel.) That was fun, for the first time, to sit in on a visiting teaching visit.

All in all, it was an interesting day – after seagulls, and after being smiled upon by Pinkie! Starting in the morning, still with no idea of exactly how I fit into the scheme of things, how things worked, what the expectations were, I spent the time writing and getting out just a few of the things I’d be needing every day. (It was pretty quiet around the hotel – the madness wouldn’t begin till a Christmas group of guests arrived on Sunday, and the couple days of preparation leading up to that!) As you can imagine, not knowing the situation was killing me – as I am one of those persons with an immense need to have things spelled out, in order to feel settled. Loraine had said she wanted ME to be a part of her life. But why? I am just me – plain, ordinary me, after all.

In the afternoon, having returned from shopping, I was up in my room writing when Loraine came by to ask if I wanted to go to Asda’s (Walmart) with them. It was me and Andy and Loraine, and then cute, pretty savvy, three year-old Chloe – Loraine’s oldest daughter’s daughter. Charlotte was already in the store and Chloe and I were dropped off to meet up with her while Loraine and Andy made a quick trip to B & O, a sort of British Home Depot, before returning for groceries.  (I had met Charlotte the night before when Molly and Elvis and I had sat chatting with Loraine in the lounge – she has a very pronounced slurry accent. At first I wasn’t sure of Loraine’s relationship to Charlotte, but soon did. There are a bunch of big young adult men around as well, who are Loraine’s sons, and it is very slowly dawning on me who is who.) Charlotte was busy choosing Christmas gifts for her daughter – and there were a bunch! Don’t know how it all works completely yet – the puzzle pieces are only slowly falling into place.

Charlotte and I got to know each other pretty well while she randomly picked out things for her daughter for Christmas. The number of things was kind of appalling – I just kept wondering how could a little girl ever possibly begin to play with all the things her mom was picking out. One really humorous thing was the way Charlotte referred to her daughter as ‘Madame,’ when addressing her. (Kind of like ‘she who must be obeyed,’ from ‘Rumpole of the Bailey,’ I suppose - the term the main character, a barrister, used when referring to his ‘dear’ wife. Hah hah.) Loraine agreed that indeed Chloe was being raised en masse by the family, and regrettably by the staff as well. Not that there’s anything wrong with the staff – just sad that a little girl would have such a haphazard life. Oh, well, she won’t be the first, and she won’t be the last. Kids like this, having to fend for themselves, often end up being some of the best and the brightest – learning to think outside the box at a very early age!

It was during this shopping trip that my role in this family organization/business venture first began to take shape in my mind. I could see that I merely – AND basically – was just another member of the larger group. Loraine is the type of person who likes to have lots of people around her. The ‘dynamics of the group,’ as a concept, doesn’t exist in her vocabulary. Actually, realizing this explains a lot - why she enjoys running a hotel, where strangers (to me, anyway) are in every inch of your space (except the solemnity of your own room – and then, you can hear them through the walls!); why she’s willing to sacrifice the sanctity of Christmas that might be shared with intimate friends and alone – because all the Ruths and Dereks, the Evelyns and Stuarts, ARE her family. And that’s exactly why she could invite me in – with hardly the blink of an eye.

As the day progressed further I began to realize that what I had interpreted as NOT being spelled out concerning how I fit into this existing arrangement actually what Loraine was been projecting all along, but I had not been picking up on – that she saw me as just another member of the family-staff. Just make myself at home, she had said – in other words, whatever you want is fine. Who would have imagined walking into a scenario like this – someone I only knew slightly, who had said, ‘sure, come down here and live with us?’ Very out of the ordinary in my experience. Now at the end of the day, I am feeling a lot more confident about how I fit in. When it comes down to it, I am simply just one of them.

[By way of explanation, regarding several concerns from the day previous: while I had THOUGHT Loraine and Andy WERE engaged, that they just weren’t admitting it, I learned that my assumption had been wrong, that it was not official at all! That really surprised me, as one of the things they’ve been spending a lot of time, energy and money on is Loraine acquiring a home for them and Loraine’s children when (and if – a pretty big ‘IF’ considering the level of emotional and financial commitment) they do get married. (Lots of ongoing drama with this situation, I can tell you – and if that weren’t enough, poor Loraine has the ‘let’s see how miserable I can make you’ type of former spouse, with mutual kids between them to deal with, besides! (Andy is a character, for sure – a bit of an enigma, which makes him somewhat intriguing. He is definitely intelligent, as well. I like him – for all his quirkiness. Who knows – maybe because of it!)

The other issue revolves around Loraine’s aside from the day before – that ‘there was a problem,’ the statement that nearly had me fainting on the spot. So, as it turns out – thankfully – it has nothing to do with me. Rather it concerns immigration questions that have developed in regards to a young American, former missionary to the area, who had been living with the family, and had received payment for his work while not holding a proper British work permit. According to Loraine, someone in their stake, in a fit of jealousy, complained to the authorities, and since I last spoke to her in November, the allegation suit appears to be going forward. Knowing this, I understood completely the strong feelings she had voiced. She was stating to herself, as much as to me, to be aware of these potential issues and take note – keep things above board. Not that we wouldn’t, she just wanted to get it out there.]

I was just telling Molly in an email, last thing of the day, that already it seems likes weeks, rather than the mere 24 hours it’s been since we were together last. Already there’s been a lot of water under the bridge  – pretty amazing , when you think about it, really!]

Photos_

1- The dawning outside my hotel bedroom window (not with a view of the sea, however – that would be one of the posher rooms, reserved for actual paying guests!)

2- room at the inn

3- Pinkie

4- (The) Blue Boy