The last few days have seen me tucked away down in Tauranga with my Grandfather. The weather has stayed exceptional and, having yet to master the concept of 'suncream' i am looking a little pink, resemling an under-cooked kebab. Ironically i also look as if i have eaten 20 of them...with a side of chips everytime. My diet must start tomorrow. It simply MUST!
My Grandfather and his girlfriend are the archetypal Grandparents. Lovely, kind and sweet. Even if a little...bumbling. And i must say, i am playing the role of angelic Grand-daughter with terrific ease and conviction. I am generous with my p's and q's (which believe it or not, comes rather naturally. After all, i may be the one that accidentally snogs your boyfriend but i wall ALWAYS say thank you after i do so). But i must say i feel like a bit of a fraud and i think two nights here might just be enough before my act starts to slip.
For example, the topic of 'current affairs' particually the modern social crisis (of which i believe me and my friends back home to be key players) comes up regularly and i keep finding myself condemning teenage drinking (with false enthusiasm i can assure you). 'i know isnt it awful' i declare with imitated disgust (all the while visions of me and my friend Liz stumbling back home from the club BUTT NAKED taking part in what we have now named 'the naked mile).
'And you should see how these young girls dress' My Grandfather says, shaking his head in dismay.
'I know' i find myself continuing 'these girls back home wear virtually nothing' (again my mind slips back to my bedroom in England to the regular Saturday night routine of getting ready where Emily exclaims 'i dont think my dress is short enough', in a garmett that if it was any shorter you'd be able to see what she had for breakfast).
A few days earlier at my Godparents house in Auckland i had emerged from the spare-room in my outfit for the days boat trip across to Whaiheke. 'Ok we'll just wait for you to put your shorts on and then we'll go' my Aunty said innocently packing up the sandwiches. I looked down at my dress. It wasnt that short, surely. But, not wanting to spark an unnecessary debate about the ever-rising hemlines of Europe i turned back to my room and put some shorts on. In my opinion it totally ruined the concept i was going for. Sort of leggy-chic, but nevertheless. My God-father is very passionate about global-warming and i was tempted to tell him that the receeding hem-lines were as inexplicable and inevitable as the receeding ice-caps. Only while the latter could spell the possible end of the human race, the former was probably resposible for the increased procreation of the species (illegitimate procreation, but procreation none-the-less).
I do feel like i'm betraying my own kind of course. Why i feel the need to so passionatley argue against them i do not know. I suppose i feel like, the more opposed to something i am, the better i am at hiding the fact that deep down all i want to be doing is lying comatose in a puddle with kebab smeared on my nipples. However, maybe i should cool things a little. After all, it was wise old William Shakespere who said 'the lady doth protest too much'. Perhaps im not as convincing as i believe and maybe when i say ''my friend' walked home naked one night' it is all too obvious that the friend to which i refer, is me.
Earlier my Grandpa was mid-rant about how my Australian cousin who i am to visit soon, is a heavy smoker. I told him i would do my best to wean him off it but really all i could think was 'free smokes, free smokes'. I felt like one of those cartoon characters when dollar signs light up in their eyes, but instead, i was seeing cartoon fags.
Similarly when Grandpa asked 'do you drink?' upon my arrival i almost laughed out loud imagining what my friends back home would think of the question. Instead of saying 'well of course i do Grandpa, crack open the gin', i sweetly replied 'i do enjoy a nice glass of wine Grandpa'. Still, i think cracks in my demure facade began to show as i finished my third glass while he still sipped on his first.
But you know, i've decided not to feel too guilty. Yes i suppose i am not being TRULY myself. But i'm not exactly going to divulge details of my debauchery to my elder family members. I do not want to be responsible for any premature deaths and i certainly dont want my Grandpa's grave-stone to read 'He loved his family dearly-except his wine-chugging, promiscuous Grand-daughter'. I think its just something you have to do to preserve a healthy relationship. I suppose thats the kind of logic that sees adulterers lying to their partners, but this is definatley different. Family ties are irrevocably fragile and i completely condone a few white-lies in order to preserve them.
Because really, unlike boyfriends, family are for life. Not just for Christmas.
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