Rest in peace L-G D

Ok, here goes. I don’t really know how to write this, so I’ll just have to see how it turns out as I type. I’ve been avoiding it to be honest, as the thought of writing this post has made me sad for weeks, but I feel ready now. At the end of October my beloved godfather - my third parent - died. He had been ill for a very long time, and it was expected, so it wasn’t a bolt out of the blue. I’d managed to get to the ripe old age of 47 without anyone dying on me, so when it became obvious that the most likely person to do so would be him, rather than run away from the fact, I tried to prepare myself as much as I could. I read books about what happens physically to our body as we die, how it is to work in a hospice, and Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings on death. I trained myself for three years to understand and accept the inevitable. I think we in the West have become too good at refusing to accept death as a fact of life, and maybe even think that we’ll all cheat it somehow? David Hockney’s line “The cause of death is birth” rang true, as did the Buddhist concept of impermanence. It made the phone call I got from one of my sisters telling me that my godfather had finally died much easier. In fact, I felt very calm about it. It helped that he had a good death; he died in his sleep, with one of my sisters in the room with him. He was not in pain, and he was not on his own. It felt like a fair trade-off for the past three years, which had been incredibly tough and painful for him - and us. This wonderfully loving and eccentric man, my dad’s best friend, had no immediate family of his own, but through my dad he got one, a large Somali/Filipino mash up of a family. He lived in the apartment upstairs from us, and his door was always open, and for the 17 years I lived in Sweden it was a great comfort to know that he was always just one flight of stairs away, his casa my casa. He was the one who gave me my first camera when I was 10, which turned out to be the most wonderful gift anyone could have given me. As my friend Z wrote to me on the day he died: “ RIP dear Lasse. And thank you for introducing the camera to little Fatima. You will live on in each picture she takes.” I couldn’t agree more.

Within 48 hrs of receiving the news I flew to Stockholm, as he had stipulated that he wanted a muslim funeral (which happens within just a few days after death), a nod to my dad perhaps (or a hedging of bets, in case there’s an afterlife?), so speed was of the essence. One of my sisters, who had been his carer for the past five years, had arranged that we could see him one final time before the funeral, and it felt completely natural that we should do so. I’d never seen a dead person before, and it was truly one of the most intimate, loving experiences in my life. It felt like such an honour. We spoke to him, of him, laughed and cried. It’s an hour of my life I will never forget.

Me and Lasse in 1976. I’m sure he insisted on me wearing the top hat, as that was very much his sense of humour.

I miss you so much Lasse! Accepting death might have been easy, but grief is a different thing altogether. It was something that I couldn’t prepare myself for, but at the same time I’m relieved, as my calm reaction to it all was also slightly confusing. I know my grief is my love for him continuing on, and that is very comforting. RIP Guffar. Jag älskar dig.

Buddy pic of the week IX

Me, on Saturday afternoon, reading, and Buddy, licking his nose.

December 2nd - January 18th

Heeeeeeey! Bit of a slow start here, but I think I’ve finally broken through the ice of laziness. Thought I’d post some pics from the past six weeks, a summary of sorts, before diving in deeper and going back to the eternal jumping back and forth in time that I do here on the blog. On a sunny day, at the beginning of December, I spent an afternoon in Spitalfields seeing a tiny exhibition, and looking at the beautiful Georgian houses on Fournier Street (which I never get tired of). However, this new build caught my eye as I was walking down the stairs into Old Street tube station (before Omicron scared me off public transport again) - already perfectly framed.

Said hello one day to Buddy who was hanging out in the sun, but he just yawned me in the face.

One Friday me and D squeezed six exhibitions in one day (must be a record), with enough time to look at Cleopatra’s Needle on the Embankment, and get closer to the faux-Egyptian sphinxes at the foot of it. The lack of tourists means that we can be tourists at home, without the crowds. Must make the most of it before they reappear. Although I don’t think ol’ Patra’s Needle is ever that busy.

Later that day we came across this little lady, having some time out in Soho. Her mum spotted me taking her picture and said “See, people are even taking pictures of you right now!”. I wonder what it was she didn't want to do.

The Christmas lights on Regent Street. Apparently some people have been moaning about the fact that they’ve been reusing the same ones for the past few years. I think it’s good that they are, in this day and age, and besides, they’re so pretty.

But Mother Nature beats that so easily. No contest.

Did something really fun on my own on the 11th of December; I went on a guided walk of Van Gogh’s London. It was a freezing cold day and the walk took us from Covent Garden to Stockwell in south London, and lasted about three hours. We started at the corner of where the art dealer that Van Gogh worked for in 1873-4 once was, and then walked across the river as he would have when walking back home from work. The tour ended at a small and beautifully restored Georgian house (called Van Gogh House), where he lodged in one of the rooms. Post on this amazing day to come.

Wasn’t feeling Christmas this year (but then I never do), but finally on the 12th the tree went up and me and Oomoo dressed it with these. I should remember that all the decorations around the house, as well as the tree, makes it really cosy in the darkest month of the year, and that it does bring a bit of cheer and that there’s nothing wrong with that at all.

And after finally being give the go-ahead for household mixing over the holidays, Christmas Day looked a lot more like usual than last year’s.

Two brothers/uncles listening to something funny whilst prepping for the main meal.

Our sister-in-law always brings it on the Christmas jumper front.

Mr Famapa got me Paul McCartney’s The Lyrics, which I’ve really enjoyed dipping in and out of in the evenings. I got him three Beatles albums on vinyl which only arrived a week ago, as the post has been seriously messed up with so many postal workers going down with Covid in the past month. Look forward to the day when Covid is endemic and nothing special anymore.

Have swum in the Ladies Pond pretty much every day this winter, which will always be special. There’s been a few beautiful foggy mornings like this one, making the world look black and white, and stunning sunny ones more recently. So grateful to be able to get there so easily.

There’s been a lot of guitar practice going on by Mr Famapa. He’s the most disciplined learner in the house.

Had a really nice New Year’s Eve with friends we hadn’t seen for 18 months. Not on purpose, but just that Covid thing of your world shrinking and you falling out of the habit of having people round.

Not sure what’s going on here. Were they checking what time it was? We definitely peaked around 10pm.

But by some miracle we managed to keep our energy levels up (our friends left at 2.20am, which must be a record for us middle aged folks), and we may have all been doing the running man to Auld Lang Syne minutes into the new year. OK, I confess - we did.

December was one of the least sunny Decembers on record, and yes, when you live in the UK this is the sort of thing you keep track of. We averaged just under 26 hours for the whole month, but January has been much better - and colder - phew. It was unseasonably mild around the New Year with +15c for a few days; even the pond temperature went up from +5.5c to +10c. Unheard of and very unsettling.

A pre-back to school haircut for the Oomster. I’ve been taking these haircutting pictures all his life. Will be fun to see them all together one day.

D looking out the amazing huge window at the Royal Academy a couple of weekends ago. Went to see the Helene Binet exhibition which we enjoyed.

Oxford Circus was very quiet for a Sunday. The centre of London has again been a bit of a ghost town, but that might all change next week when they review the Covid rules. Seems like we’re over the worst of it - for now.

After Binet we saw Frans Hals at the Wallace Collection, which was ace. The free audio guide added so much more to the pictures, and we enjoyed looking at them through Grayson Perry’s eyes, who we got to listen to as we walked through the exhibition.

And there he is, the famous Laughing Cavalier, painted almost 400 years ago.

A cool sunburst ceiling rose on the way out of the Wallace Collection. Would one of these be too much in a house today? Probably. But also really cool.

And speaking of houses of today; last week our dining room got a new lick of paint. So happy with the result - it’s like a whole new room! A perfect way to start the year.

So much cosier in there now, and I forgot how elegant a dark shade makes a room. We’ve definitely gotten back round to the idea of having people around for dinner again, and on Saturday we enjoyed having the in-laws here for the first time in ages. Next up for a new colour: the living room. Time to kill off the white walls in our house.

And finally, yesterday morning, when I swam in ice for the first time. Half of the swimming area in the Ladies Pond was covered in it, and I really wanted to touch it, but I didn’t dare annoy the lifeguards as they’d asked us to steer clear, as you can cut yourself. The past few days have been stunning and I’ve been lucky enough to score one of the changing benches in the sun, so I can look at this gorgeous view of the Bird Pond as I pile all my clothes back on and drink my thermos of hot tea. Has to be my favourite part of my day. I’m such a lucky lady.

Feelin' hot hot hot

It’s been hot here for the past few days I tell ya! We’ve also just come out of self-isolation as Omar’s class bubble finally burst, just a mere two days before school was out. They had such a good run of it though. I just hope he gets to start Upper School in person and not online, but I feel a fourth lockdown heading our way very soon. Please let me be wrong (although, of course, if that’s what has to happen that is what has to happen). Yet again time will tell. As always. Ha.