Auntie Mick

Older people like to talk about people even older than themselves.  A lot.  Often these people are dead.

This is my main observation from three evenings with my Mom and her sister.

Sometimes this can be tedious as you try and keep track of names (who was Doris again?) and try not to fall asleep because you've been at work since 7am.  Sometimes, however, this can lead to some real gems.

"Do you remember Auntie Ethel?" said my Mother to the gathered crowd (i.e. me, Aunt and Cousin).

"Yes, I do," said Aunt.  "She was a hard woman.  Always difficult to please.  But she was nicer when Bette was alive."

"Who was Bette?" - this is me asking.  I knew Auntie Ethel from my very early years as a child - she scared the bejeesus out of me.

"She was Ethel's friend," said Aunt.  "They shared a house until Bette died.  They used to go everywhere together.  They had that lovely ironmongery stall in the market."

"Were they lesbians?" - me again, asking the un-askable question, as per usual.

"No," said Mother.  "They just shared a house."

"Although, they did share a bedroom too," said Aunt.

"Yes, but times were hard, and neither of them ever married," said Mother.

"Wasn't it funny how Bette used to call Ethel 'Mick' ?"

At this point me and Cousin fall about giggling.  They used to go everywhere together, sold ironmongery, shared a bedroom, they never married and one gave the other one a man's name - I mean really, how were these women not lesbians?  

Plus, I distinctly remember sensible shoes being part of Ethel's get up.

My Mother looked at my Aunt and you could see that the pieces were falling into place.

"Oh my ..." said Mother.

"... sweet Lord" said Aunt.

"Sweet Jesus," said I, "how did you never work that one out?"

"We don't all have your 'gaydar radar' thing, darling" said my Mother, acidly...