I’ve had more than a few nicknames in my 52 years as many seem to find Elizabeth too much of a mouthful, but I recently gained a new name that makes me smile every time I hear it. When Jersey Girl was here a few weeks ago, we had a memorable conversation over ice cream while John went to get the car.
It was at the end of a long and lovely coast path walk that took us into the village of Polzeath where JG and I were content to people watch and eat ice cream while waiting for John. We were sitting on a wall near the beach watching a steady steam of people passing by and after a while Jersey Girl looked up at me with a mix of shy sweetness and said, ” Do you think people think you’re my mummy? ” I laughed at this, gave her a playful squeeze and said, ” Not hardly given my wrinkles and grey hair! “
JG kindly responded that I didn’t have many wrinkles and only a bit of grey hair. I told her that was sweet, but I really was too old to be the mother of someone her age. Then I thought about it for a second and said that there were some women who had babies into their mid-forties so it was possible for a woman my age to have eight year old child. I added that I didn’t know how older moms did it as I wasn’t sure I could balance work and young children at my age.
We left it at that and I had no idea she was still thinking about it until later. John said she often does this with him after they’ve talked about a topic. He’ll think they’re finished with the subject, but she’ll still be mulling it over and will come back to him later with a new ideas or more questions. She’s very sharp about a great many things and it is interesting to see how her young mind works.
I was surprised to see this in action later as we came back our beachside conversation while having dinner. Somewhere between the main meal and dessert she announced that I wasn’t really old enough to be her granny (like her two grandmothers, Granny A. and Granny R.) and I wasn’t young enough really to be her mummy, but as I was married to her grandpa, she would call me Granumy.
She has very proper British pronunciation which makes Granumy sound like Gran-ah-me. It has a fairly musical sound to me and I liked it immediately. While I’m not a granny, grandmother, or grandmom by a blood tie, it’s sweet that she has worked out a special name for me on her own and I’m very pleased to be JG’s Granumy.
Perhaps the larger gift in her creative combination will be a reminder that everything doesn’t have to be one or the other, and how sometimes a clever mix of what we know may lead to something entirely new and unique.






















Remember last summer when I was
It was tough to get all three looking at the camera at the same time, but here’s one I managed with John’s
Some things you never forget such as how to feed a baby, but I didn’t remember how they’re likely to blow bits of whatever they’re eating back at you with every cough, sneeze, or head shake. By the end of her meal, I looked as if I needed to be wearing a bib too.
No one makes
That’s Clive, he’s JBG’s other grandpa and John is in the background wearing Jane’s fox collar. Jane is JBG’s other grandmother. John was pretending to be a lion a few minutes before I took this photo. There were some others with the fur that I snapped and then forgot about where he was making a series of funny faces. When I asked him why he had such odd expressions on his face, he said, ‘ I was growling!’
I’m not sure what kind of lion he was supposed to be here, but I did ask him to strike a pose.

































