Thursday, June 11, 2009

Happy Birthday Dinny

Today is Dinny's birthday. She would say legs eleven and do a funny dance accompanied by a fake breathy whistle through her teeth. I always try and find some space to reflect on my Nan on her birthday. This is one of my favourite photos. Taken in 1968 it says 'my baby' on the back. She got her license later in life. She couldn't hill start. Mum remembers sitting on the floor of this car, cowering in embarassment as Nan failed to hill start at the steep traffic lights on Carrington street in Fremantle. After at least 4 light changes and no room for roll back error, Nan whisked herself out of the car and asked the lovely gentleman in the car behind to drive the car over the hill for her. Mum remembers saying hello from the floor. That is one of my favourite Dinny stories. She was good for a giggle. She was a barmaid when I was a kid - old school. When I was a baby Mum was shopping with my older sister, Simone, just down the road from the pub she worked at in Freo. It's an irish pub now. Anyways Mum gets to checkout and loses Simone. She thinks she's behind the counter but when she looks, no Simone. Panic sets in. Scans all the aisles. Still no simone. So she leaves me, the baby, with the checkout chick and bolts down the road to Nan's pub. She swings into the front bar crying and proclaiming 'I've lost Simone'. Nan's response was to almost vault the bar whilst dashing for the door telling a barfly to watch the bar and NOT TOUCH ANYTHING. They found Simone soon after - hand in hand and not worried with a stranger who had found her window shopping. I guess they remembered to get me. Another favourite story. There are so many stories. Of little boys on toast and soft drink. And milk iceblocks on sunny days. Of your tomato relish, pickled onions and coconut jam tarts. Of letting us stay up late and watch Sale of the Century and Prisoner when you babysat (just don't tell your father). Of the concerts you gave us grandkids on family days - where you dressed up and danced with your sisters.
Nan passed away in 1999 and I have to say I still really miss her. I loved her company and the cheeky, youthful spirit she never lost. You share a special language with treasured Nannas. I really miss that I don't have her to talk to. That I can't ask for more stories. That as I grow older and my own experiences change my perspectives that I can't run a few things by her. And That my daughter didn't get to meet her. She was a cracker.
Happy Birthday, Dinny. Hope there is a corner of up there where you continue to dance and whistle through your false teeth whilst sipping a cheeky pony xx

10 comments:

Rach said...

And Happy Birthday Dinny! Its lonely without our Dinny's...

Bek said...

What a beautiful post. Such a lovely way to honour Dinny on her birthday. What a wonderful lady.

Tania said...

Hells Bells! You've done it to me again. I've come over all wobbly lower lip. Those treasured Nanna memories are made of golden irreplaceable stuff - hold on tight! I'm sure your cheeky Nanna was tipping her cheeky pony glass to you even as you typed.

CurlyPops said...

What a sweet story. Happy Birthday Dinny.
She was a very stylish lady in her day, that's for sure!

potty mouth mama said...

I really love this post. It made me teary. I loved all the richness of your stories, told with such verve. Your Dinny sounds like she had a great character and had lots to give. Treasure those memories, share them with Edie. LOVE! Happy Birthday Dinny.

Bianca said...

Oh, Happy Birthday Dinny! What a lovely post.

Fer said...

That is priceless. The world needs more Dinny's. Happy birthday to a real star.

Dick and Dora said...

This is a cracker of a post, the best I have read in blogland in a long time. Happy Birthday Dinny. My Dinny would have been 100 this year and we're planning a party! She was a cracker too. Should I tell the bit about when she laughed so hard she wet her pants in the street ...

Thea said...

What a lovely tribute to your nan. I love the story, especially how she asked the guy to drive the car over the hill for her. I imagine that men would have liked to have helped a damsel in distress in that time.
Thank you for sharing.

SmitoniusAndSonata said...

Oh , I wish I'd met her .