for 2009
And the season’s greetings to you all !
When I wrote my first Christmas letter in 1986 I did not think that I would still be writing them twenty three years later. If I had, I might have stopped there and then. But here we are, still standing up and breathing although with no immediate plans to climb Ben Lomond or walk the West Highland Way. Getting round Morrison’s or sweeping up the eternal leaves in the garden are both enough to exhaust ourselves for the rest of the day. We have reached that state of philosophical belief that we are here to be, not to do. Not that our days are empty, far from it, just not so physical as in days of long ago.
And as time goes by we find that the number of things we do of interest to anyone else becomes fewer and fewer, so we thought that this year we might present some more and larger photographs [stills, very still] than usual, just to let you see that age has not wearied us nor the years done whatever it was that the poet said.
There were two highlights in 2009. One Saturday
morning in February Gavin appeared at the door with Floriane, his French
girl-friend. He was wearing his Sinclair look, mostly demonstrated by Steven
where the person concerned is bursting with pleasure but has no intention of
showing it. He nudged his head towards Floriane who, with difficulty, lifted
her left hand to reveal a piece of rock roughly the size of a lump of sugar.
Together they indicated their intention to splice the knot sometime in the
future after they had sold a flat and a house, if ever, in these changing
times. We made suitable murmuring noises as one does, and life then resumed
as normal. Later on, Anne told me she had seen a ring just like Floriane’s in
a jeweller’s window. She also told me the price, but by bedtime I was quite
recovered. Anne’s engagement ring cost twenty-eight pounds ten shillings from
a jeweller in Wolverhampton in 1960 and it gives me pleasure to think that
today it might be worth a fortune.
To be quite blunt, we are delighted that Gavin and Floriane have come together. I’ve waited twenty years for this and it’s the best thing that has ever happened to Gavin. He’s a different person already, more communicative and more visible than he used to be - we see both of them at least once a month. They’re getting married next 14th July - Bastille Day [an auspicious date] and they’ll be living in Bishopbriggs. And already they have proved their worth by digging up a plot of my front garden for which I have plans far beyond my ability.
Our other big event was in May when Patty Rosner [or
Ward] came over from Pennsylvania for a fortnight’s holiday in the old country
bringing with her her friend Beverly to act as companion and nurse and to
ensure that at eighty-nine Patty did not lose touch with her surroundings. We
had a marvellous time. Bev had more energy alone than the other three of us
put together. She sprinted around like a ten-year old while the golden oldies
sat still and put the world to rights. Thanks to Tom and Morag Hutchison we
started with a few days in Arran. The weather was brilliant, the scenery
massive and the Americans very much impressed. Back home we did all the local
tourist spots and returned each evening just short of total exhaustion to
prepare for the next day.
We off-loaded the visitors for two or three days down to Ayrshire where everyone got maudlin. Patty of course had seen it all many times but to Bev it was all new and thankfully she never wearied. I am told she took 500 photographs and that on her return home her smile stretched from ear to ear and her face shone reminiscent of Moses coming off the mountain.
We are very much into the bed and breakfast business these days. The Hutchisons [see last year’s letter] who came for a few weeks in 2007 finally got their real estate problems resolved about two months ago and moved out of our second best bedroom. Both the Barnetts and the Dumphries, retired missionaries to South America, spent time with us, the Hodges came to stay as usual and as usual got lost in the environs of the M8 motorway and Glasgow Royal Infirmary. We now operate an accompanied child service for them from Hamilton Service Station. And after they had had their real holidays in upmarket foreign parts, the Whitefields spent a few days with us. The joy of all these occasions is that we know one another well enough to cope with each other’s company without ever having to exert ourselves physically. I can keep them entertained all week in conversation. Among the other folks we’ve seen of late are the Perrys - Martin, son of Mary Perry, or Page, or McHarg, depending on when you knew her. They stay close enough in Bearsden for us to see them when we have surplus energy and, as one of my few surviving relations, we would like to keep in touch.
Apart from the time spent with these different folks, we didn’t venture very far on holiday this year. We went back to the Hutchisons in Brodick for five or six days in late August and that really was it. We find that the pleasure of going on holiday isn’t worth the hassle and we both like our own bed. And, fortunately, we agree in this matter. The problem is what to do when living away. Neither of us is up to walking round Scotland, let alone the rest of the world, and sitting in a car all has day ceased to be fun. So holidays are for reading, listening to music and other such pursuits. And the best place for all that is at home. Problem solved.
Speaking about music, I have finally finished a task I have had on the jobs to do list for some years. I have converted some 300 records and audio tapes to CDs. That way I can now listen to them more easily on my hi-fi or my iPod since gramophones or even record players are becoming extinct and I don’t care if I never meet a DVD. And if anyone is interested in upmarket vintage records, have a word. They must be worth something.
Our other two hopes for the
future, Steven and Duncan, continue to thrive, the one in Dunfermline and the
other in Partick, Glasgow. Steven and Catriona are the parents of Amy, now
eleven and taller than her granny [not all that difficult], the tallest girl in
the primary school in fact and a smart and sharp polymath like her father. We
get the impression that she may be well up the tree in the intelligence stakes.
It’s all in there, all it needs is to get it out at the right time. Duncan
is still winching Claire. You will remember that he lives in Partick and
works in Townhead and she comes from Bo’ness and lives and works in Dundee.
This, it seems to me, is no way to develop a relationship but who am I to know
the course of true love? What the future holds is quite unknown to me, I am
just a spectator. For the next chapter in this saga, see next year’s letter. Meanwhile the lad has been appointed to the
honorary post of Chief Guru and provides much assistance to the boss [me] on
his Apple Macintosh.
We are both kept very busy
especially in Bearsden Baptist Church. Anne helps with Lunchbreak [for older
women, older than Anne] and with Bumps and Bundles [for the young]. I am
still locked into providing an accountancy service for the place. Having
climbed the learning curve last year, this year is nearly a doddle. 
Of
course, everything should be running smoothly by this time but I always have
this crushing need to change things - for the better, of course. If I could
learn to leave well alone I’d get through the work in half the time but the
desire to do it my way is ever prevalent. It must just be sheer genius.
Despite our increasing ages we both look younger than we feel but the flesh is catching up. Anne has indigestion problems that cause all manner of difficulty. I have all my usual aches and pains but they have been joined this last five months by sciatica - an earthly introduction to hell. I have toured the various medical departments and some days now are fine. Then I do some modest work [like putting up new bedlights] and I’m in agony for two or three days. Nobody has yet found me a cure but my ever cheery GP probably had the best solution. ‘Keep it,’ said he, ‘till it’s better.’ Thanks pal.
That’s all folks for this year. We close with a picture reminiscent of the poem about Old Kaspar sitting beside his cottage door. Feel free to join us in the sun.
anne and alan sinclair 40 switchback road bearsden e dunbartonshire 0141 563 7357 alan’at’coila.org
Click on any of the images to enlarge...
 Alan's second XI |
 Acting the fool |
 Acting her age |
| Very smart |
 Patty, Bev, Anne at 40 |
 My new, last, final, fence |
| Get stuck in |
Arran with T and M |
 Prayer triplet |
| Summer evening at no. 40 |
 Patty, Bev and Anne |
Duncan and Claire |
 Autumn Garden |
 Summer Garden |
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