The Case of Junie's Awkward Ears
Sept 28, 2020 21:19:30 GMT
capriole, whitestones, and 6 more like this
Post by susanna on Sept 28, 2020 21:19:30 GMT
I've already posted about this on the Julip FB page, but I'm still laughing about it.
Today my mum's second-oldest Julip, Juniper, returned from Amanda's veterinary care in time for Mum's birthday, and came back to his stable.
The stable is one of the most precious things we own. It's intricately detailed, including a tiled floor, feedboxes in both stalls, authentic-looking wooden beams in the ceiling, and bars between the stalls so the horses can communicate but not injure each other. It was made by my great-grandfather, Bertrum Payne, between 1962 and 1963. He was an architect who also worked on Queen Mary's dollshouse in the 1920s. He created something special for each of his grandchildren: a dollshouse for each of my aunts, a Noah's Ark for my uncle, and the stable for my mum. Juniper was on the way, but hadn't arrived, so Grandpa Bertrum had only Pebble's measurements to work with. Pebble, an original Arab Stallion, has an arched neck. Juniper, a Hunter, has a raised head, so when he arrived, his ears caught on the top of the door.
Mum didn't mind, as it was easy to duck his head through (also duh, amazing model stable) but Bertrum was a stickler for detail and he was really cross. He gave my grandmother, his daughter, a much harder time about it than was probably necessary.
Of course, Juniper is over fifty years old now, and during that time his ears wore away to sad little nubs. I sent him off to Amanda, who gave him some new ears, and they look amazing.
But guess what?
They touch the top of the door.
And I swear, I could hear my great-grandfather's frustration from the afterlife.
He was a funny man. He made another faux pas one Christmas in Mum's childhood. She's a decade behind her siblings, so Bertrum was already old, widowed and crotchety by the time she was around. He was staying with them and, trying to be friendly, my grandmother sent Mum into his room to open her stocking. So he could be part of it, y'know?
All Bertrum could go on about was how spoiled rotten children were these days (and this was the 60s; I think he'd have an aneurysm if he saw what kids get today), and how they didn't know what it was like to really appreciate something, etc. A lot of bah-humbug stuff, which didn't do wonders for my mum's Christmas spirits. And I get it, he was one of the frugal generation who lived through two world wars - but this was also the man who spent hundreds of hours crafting large, intricately detailed toys for his daughter and each of his grandchildren. What a hypocrite.
Still, his heart was in the right place, and his artistic genes showed up in most of my family. And all his creations are still around, being loved and appreciated. His grandson's grandsons are playing with the Noah's Ark. I inherited the largest dollshouse (which I have entered to The Repair Shop, watch this space), which has become our Julip riders' residence. And of course, the stable is still with us.
Here's to Great-Grandpa Bertrum, master craftsman. And here's to Junie, forever too tall for your own good. Great to have you back.
Today my mum's second-oldest Julip, Juniper, returned from Amanda's veterinary care in time for Mum's birthday, and came back to his stable.
The stable is one of the most precious things we own. It's intricately detailed, including a tiled floor, feedboxes in both stalls, authentic-looking wooden beams in the ceiling, and bars between the stalls so the horses can communicate but not injure each other. It was made by my great-grandfather, Bertrum Payne, between 1962 and 1963. He was an architect who also worked on Queen Mary's dollshouse in the 1920s. He created something special for each of his grandchildren: a dollshouse for each of my aunts, a Noah's Ark for my uncle, and the stable for my mum. Juniper was on the way, but hadn't arrived, so Grandpa Bertrum had only Pebble's measurements to work with. Pebble, an original Arab Stallion, has an arched neck. Juniper, a Hunter, has a raised head, so when he arrived, his ears caught on the top of the door.
Mum didn't mind, as it was easy to duck his head through (also duh, amazing model stable) but Bertrum was a stickler for detail and he was really cross. He gave my grandmother, his daughter, a much harder time about it than was probably necessary.
Of course, Juniper is over fifty years old now, and during that time his ears wore away to sad little nubs. I sent him off to Amanda, who gave him some new ears, and they look amazing.
But guess what?
They touch the top of the door.
And I swear, I could hear my great-grandfather's frustration from the afterlife.
*
He was a funny man. He made another faux pas one Christmas in Mum's childhood. She's a decade behind her siblings, so Bertrum was already old, widowed and crotchety by the time she was around. He was staying with them and, trying to be friendly, my grandmother sent Mum into his room to open her stocking. So he could be part of it, y'know?
All Bertrum could go on about was how spoiled rotten children were these days (and this was the 60s; I think he'd have an aneurysm if he saw what kids get today), and how they didn't know what it was like to really appreciate something, etc. A lot of bah-humbug stuff, which didn't do wonders for my mum's Christmas spirits. And I get it, he was one of the frugal generation who lived through two world wars - but this was also the man who spent hundreds of hours crafting large, intricately detailed toys for his daughter and each of his grandchildren. What a hypocrite.
Still, his heart was in the right place, and his artistic genes showed up in most of my family. And all his creations are still around, being loved and appreciated. His grandson's grandsons are playing with the Noah's Ark. I inherited the largest dollshouse (which I have entered to The Repair Shop, watch this space), which has become our Julip riders' residence. And of course, the stable is still with us.
Here's to Great-Grandpa Bertrum, master craftsman. And here's to Junie, forever too tall for your own good. Great to have you back.