Glamorous Pink!

Return

It’s Monday Morning.  There’s no better way to begin the week than to sit oneself down next to a freshly brewed ‘cuppa’ with in front a blank screen that states: “It’s time to commence blogging again.”

The weekend was hectic, but thanks to a group of well-devoted organisers, our plans fell smoothly into place. It all started off with three themes in mind: ‘Pink’, ‘Cupcakes’ and ‘Sex and the City’.  The very items our ‘bride-to-be’ is fanatical about.  The location we chose had to be metropolitan, sexy, bustling...even oozing an air of calmness.  New York was a city a tad too far.  It therefore had to be Paris; equally idyllic – retrospectively, a place just ‘round the corner’!

The beginning

On the Friday afternoon, I left the house, with a suitcase in my hand, boarded a plane from Liverpool to Brussels, and hid in a friend’s apartment for the night.  At 6.30am, the very next day, we made our way to join the others on the platform of Brussels-South.  Sam’s Cafe was the area in which we were going to meet and greet our ‘bachelorette’ of the weekend.

Constantly clock-watching, I began to panic because our party-girl kept us waiting much longer than originally anticipated.  I kept wondering: “Are we going to make the Thalys to Paris on time?”  What felt like hours, but was only minutes later - I noticed her; appear from afar.  She was wearing a knee-high denim skirt which was over-hung by a white ribbed vest-top and loosely accessorised with a cream-coloured scarf.  It was, all-in-all, a plain but rather elegant ensemble that corresponded to the manner in which she was approaching.  As soon as she saw one of us wave, she stuck her neck out, trying to do a headcount.  From the minute she was a distant of three arm-lengths away, I detected the shock and excitement on her face: “Ters, You have made it!”  The words she exclaimed made me choke on my breath with emotion. 

Weeks of anticipation, days of extreme worry and unrest, the hours and minutes that I had been counting down to; were now, finally, positioned in front of me!  The intensity was overwhelming; my build-up of nerves had to be released.  All the emotions that I had *this far* held within, were beginning to melt to the surface.  And even though I was meant to surprise her; I ended up astounding myself.  Over-run by a wealth of affection, my spontaneity took over and expressed itself with floods of tears – the saltiness of the liquid was nearly dissolving the chubbiness on my cheeks… I could hardly blurt out a word and sobbed: “I am so happy to see you!” 

Her attributes

Her immediate reaction was to take me in her arms.  They were as comforting as ever!  All of a sudden, completely unexpected (like every single one of them tears) a list came streaming out from nowhere, neatly organising the attributes that make her so unique and valuable to me!

I look up to her strong and independent streak - she has a hunger to help worthy others.  Her stubborn, hard-working and diligent efforts are motivational factors that enhance the determination within me.  I adore her because she is always on the ball.  I’m not just referring to ‘current affairs’, ‘the headlines in the media’ – she takes a priceless interest in every single member of our family and asks questions – merely out of concern – that are sincere and meaningful.  It makes me realise that many of us close-knit siblings take life, in unison, quite often for granted.  Her nurturing instinct has turned her into a beautiful, sensible mother.  The other functions she fulfils in society (as an eager volunteer, a passionate columnist, a customary presenter…) are coequally demonstrating the quintessence of her being!         

A feeling through and through

As eldest of eleven siblings, I carry a responsibility that often sends me on edge.  There are a lot of things that I can’t spontaneously discuss with the younger members of my family – with Heidi everything differs.  She is the one who encourages me to talk about the insecurities of the heart; the one that helps me cope with the bullies in society.  She is the single motivator that guides me in finding a peaceful balance between the career and family oriented mind (even when it is her dream to appear as an interviewee on Oprah Winfrey’s chair)!       

Heidi, it would be an insult to call you my favourite cousin when I consider you my older sister through and through!  “You are a sophisticated blonde, with a vivaciousness that is out of this world, which shines most beautifully and calmly through next to a touch of glamorous pink!”

And just because I couldn’t get it over my lips at the point of our departure: “Heidi, ik zie u OOK graag!”

"Surprise!"

A little white lie

It all started off with a little white lie, messaged across msn: "Mum, I'm coming over for Frann's 5th birthday.  I'm going to help Kelly out during the party which she is planning on organising for Wednesday afternoon.  Her girls are also performing in a dance show on the Saturday. I'm therefore staying the entire week. Can I kip at yours?" For once I was counting my blessings for being able to facilitate my communication through the use of the Internet.  A phone-call would have simply given the game away... I would have hesitated at an inappropriate moment, stumbled over my words or trembled terribly with that insecure voice!  "It's OK. You can share a room with Amy," typed my forever accommodating mother away, "Do you need Dad to come and pick you up from the airport?"  Shocked at how quickly I was being presented with a question; I had no alternative but to think on the spot:  "No, it is OK," trying to respond without too much hesitation, "I will get Kelly to pick me up; it's after all especially for her girls that I'm travelling to Belgium." The last part of that sentence made my eyes squint.  I gritted my teeth, knowing full-well that "I was telling the biggest fib ever!"  A sigh of relief followed.  I continued by patting myself on the back - secretly pleased at how I managed to survive that first batch of sweat.  But those feelings weren't meant to last; when seconds after an awkward instruction followed: "Send me your flight details... that way I'll be able to monitor your progress and inform Kelly of any delays or hiccups."  Frustratingly , I raised my hands up in the air, lowered them and wriggled my fingers above the keyboard: "Aaargh!"  My husband Karl and our daughters Sian and Neve had planned on coming over too; but I didn't want to tell my mum this soon: "How on earth was I going to get round this?"  Thankfully, my nerves settled.  I remembered that their tickets had been booked separately - their outward journey wasn't on the same day as mine.  I panicked for no reason, and thought: "Silly me!" then my fingers carefully tapped on the letters that formed this affirmative sentence: "No problems, I'm mailing the details as we speak!"

Wonderful ideas

Now that my parents were aware of my travel arrangements, it was easier to concentrate on the actual celebration in hand.  Hundreds and thousands of emails were circulating between eleven of us - brothers and sisters straightforwardly brainstorming; dreaming up a cloud full of ideas.  Our gut instinct was to revamp the home we grew up in.  A plan that, unfortunately, laid way beyond our means. 
We therefore had to significantly downsize our initial, perhaps a tad over-ambitious, suggestion: "What about a new bedroom and dining room suite?  Those are manageable items and would also enhance our parents' living standards.  It would definitely be a significant improvement on the 'carcasses' that are currently in place."  After serious determination and a lot of contemplation, we were once again required to decrease our enthusiasm due to the enormity of the task: "It would take a week to clear, strip, re-decorate and furnish those rooms and there is no way in this world, our parents would agree to leaving their chaotic household behind, even when it is only for a couple of days!" 
So we moulded a third alternative together:  "Let's just buy ten new dining room chairs and re-decorate the smallest communal space in the house; the kitchen.  This way we would also have enough money to organise a party - making it a beautiful day to remember!"  So we focused hard on selecting appropriate materials; plotted a scenario that would allure them in thinking that we had shamefully forgotten all about it and crossed our fingers tightly hoping our master plan would smoothly spring into place once the allotted time-slots came near. 

A week in Belgium

Right up to the minute I was due to board that plane, I communicated with my siblings using that now so indispensable cyberspace.  The itinerary for the celebrations were firmly in place.  We just had to follow all of the arrangements that helped execute our well-thought-through plans... 

But unsurprisingly my nearly ninety year old grandmother, who we kept in the dark, had also a couple of desires upon my arrival in Belgium.  She wanted a day out with me and had already pre-scheduled a pilgrimage to Scherpenheuvel with a couple of members of the family.  So on the Tuesday, when I was meant to be going to Ikea with Kelly, I was making my way to Scherpenheuvel instead. 

"Drat!  Our original plans had to be postponed!" Aiming to find a solution, I was desperately trying to get hold of Jimmy: "Could you drive with me to Ikea on Thursday?  Kelly is already occupied with her girls' that day."  Responsively, he agreed, still I couldn't help but feel reluctant: "What happens if they run out of stock? Surely we can't leave the purchase of chairs until the very last minute?"  Jimmy replied reassuringly: "There is more than one Ikea within our reach.  And if push really comes to shove, we simply choose another style or design." He was right, I needed to relax and stop expecting the worst.   

In the end, it all worked out for the better, I had a wonderful and unexpectedly productive day with my gran.  She bought a handful of ornamental candles; whilst I swapped my money for a recipe book called 'Taarten en Vlaaien' (cakes and pies).  We both lit some candles for family members and prayed quietly for those in need.  My sister Shirley and her baby girl Lyana accompanied us too.  "Today, I am gracefully grateful for that particular amount of quality time we got to share."

Ikea

As rearranged and pre-agreed, Jimmy drove me to the Ikea in Zaventem.  Ten chairs and cushions we had to load.  I kept wondering whether his tiny Corsa was going to have an adequate amount of space; I pestered him with the same question several times: "What are you going to do if it doesn't all fit in the car?"  He was adamant: "Trust me, it's going to be just fine!"

The questions luckily never bothered him.  It took us a swift 30 minutes, before we were stood in front of the tills with a trolley compacted of L-shaped boxes and, on top, beige coloured cushions, piled up high.  The lady serving us was being genuinely friendly, there was an instant like-ability factor about her.  I complimented her receptiveness by holding a brief chit-chat, then paid the bill in cash and in full.  As soon as I was about to put the till receipt in my purse, Jimmy turned round to me.  His expression on his face changed from a happy smile into a relatively stern look.  I did not know what to make of it.  As he lifted up his hand and wagged his finger, he opened his mouth: "Now, don't you dare ask anything else from me!"  I was too embarrassed to look around, even though I knew Jimmy was only being sarcastic: "I can't believe you just made me look like the suppressed little housewife!"

I spontaneously fastened my pace, unlike Jimmy, who was busily catching his breath after having burst out in uncontrollable laughter: "You should have seen the expression of shock horror on that woman's face!  She is definitely going to have something to talk about during her lunch hour."  Sometimes, I can't believe Jimmy's sense of humour - it always knows to surprise me!

Burned sponge

On the Friday, the day before the surprise was planned, I quickly made up some excuses: "I'm spending some time with Kelly... I'm going to be out from noon till night!" then disappeared out of the vicinity of my parents.  They did think it was rather peculiar and mentioned my odd behaviour to some of the others that were still in the house: "Our Tersia usually stays with us, at home... Perhaps she is just making up for lost time?"  It was after all the very first time (in fourteen years) that I had left Karl, on his own in England, looking after the children. 

In reality I was rushing round like a headless chicken, fighting against time.  Together with Kelly, I collected the keys from the function room and shopped around for the raw ingredients that would eventually constitute a festive, four-course meal. 

I spent the afternoon chopping vegetables at her house and sealed the correct quantities for the soup and main course in plastic bags.  I noticed a blister near the bottom of my right pointer approve the hard work I was going through and painfully sighed: "Com'on Tersia, don't you dare feel sorry for yourself!" 

Around four o'clock I made my way to Cliff's kitchen; he was the only one with a reliable oven.  At first, I wasted a bit of time; feeling my way round - an environment I had never cooked in before.  But once organised, I managed to speedily prepare a batter.  Two regular sized cake-tins were filled well before the oven had been preheated.

My first batch of cakes developed a dark crust too soon; the odour in the house alarmed us with a burning smell: "Drat!  That oven is more efficient than I am used to!"  There was no choice, but to attempt another batch; this time lowering the temperature of the oven a notch or two.  Four sponge-cakes later, I had two to work with!

By this time my stress levels had hit the roof, mainly due to the fact that I was running late for a last minute gathering with my siblings.  It was nine pm: "Com'on Tersia, nearly there, just persevere!"  The meeting continued, even when it occurred slightly later than planned.
As soon as I entered the room, Candy shouted: "Karl and the girls are waiting for you at home."  I was so disappointed that I wasn't there to greet them, but slightly relieved when earlier on in the week I had grabbed the chance to pre-warn my parents: "It wouldn't surprise me if Karl has booked some flights for the weekend; bringing the girls with him as well!" 

The preparations

The day of the party had arrived.  Still tired, I dragged myself out of bed.  At 8 am, I was out that hotel-room door, buying fresh bread to compliment the starters of 'Salmon & Tuna Cocktail' and 'Cream of Tomato & Meatball' soup.  By 9 am. I was in the kitchen, completely on my own, frying off the vegetables for the soup and marinating the chicken. 
Not long after Kelly arrived, her task was to concentrate on the decorations for the party-room.  She started off by blowing up the contents of three different bags of balloons and utilised them to flourish the room with.  She finished her job perfectly by setting the tables professionally with the help of her five and seven year old.
The next one to appear on the scene was Shirley, she was in charge of the roses.  Roses, especially the ruby red ones, were our main theme of the day. 
Around eleven-ish; Cliff arrived.  The one person I was most happy to see, as a fully qualified chef he could take over in the kitchen.  The vol-au-vent mixture still had to be cooked, the starters were nowhere near in the making, plus the Sangria had to be mixed with lemonade, fruit and ice, well in advance so that the flavours could fuse and chill.  I was left with just enough time to put the finishing touches to the cakes. 

The announcement.

By half past one I needed to be in the Casino of Houthalen.  Kelly's little girls were performing in an annual show which had been put together by the dance-group they are members of.  Our mum, dad, gran and some of the younger children in the family were joining us too.  I was pushing it for time, when a phone-call alerted me with the latest.  It was Kelly:  "Our gran; she is being difficult!"  Slightly relieved that it wasn't anything to do with her health, I let Kelly continue: "She is only prepared to come out for the afternoon if either one of us is going to pick her up."  As I was the nearest in distance to her, I decided to go and face the music and informed her patiently and clearly of our plans for the afternoon.  If I had to; I would drag her out with me, but fortunately it never came to that.

Finally, my time had come to relax - I was thoroughly enjoying all the groups perform their individual dance routines.  Back in the function room and at home, the heat was literally on!  Cliff was running the kitchen with the help of Audry and Shirley.  Kevin and Karl were stripping and papering walls whilst Alvin and Jimmy were screwing the chairs together in my parents' dining room.  I was sat there thinking I had taken the easy way out: "Whilst I had a time span of nearly twenty-four hours; they were only given a dismal two to work with." 

Curious as to whether they hit their target deadline, I got Kelly to sms the lads once the finale appeared on stage:  "Good news," she whispered, "it's all in hand!"  In the meantime Shirley was also being alerted as she had to drive the remainder of the grandchildren to the Casino.  It were the little ones that were going to make the announcement. 

Once outside, my mum's penny dropped!  She was killing herself laughing.  My dad, on the other hand, looked rather tense and confused.  Axl, the only grandson, was given the honours of revealing the good news we had in store.  He proudly proclaimed: "Oma and Opa, we have a surprise for you, please follow us in the car!"

The rest of the family were waiting in a line outside where the party was being held.  They were holding on to some biodegradable confetti.  As soon as my parents walked down the 'human-aisle' that had been formed, we let go of a wonderful stream of paper petals.

Moments later in the hall, we put our hands together - cheered and clapped, applauding the exemplary couple.  The Sangria came out, my dad wanted a toast: “Thank you for the beautiful, completely unexpected surprise!"

A Ruby Red Rose.

We wanted to commemorate my parents' 40th Wedding Anniversary in a very unique, incredibly personal way.  For that Camy, my youngest sibling, came up with the most incredible idea:  "Let us attach a personal message to a ruby red rose each.  Hand it to Mum and Dad whilst congratulating them."   I wish I had taken the time out to read some of the others, but mine sounded like this: "Dear mum and dad, do you still remember 'With my arms wide-open, I come running towards you...' that is how my first ever poem in nursery went.  A perfect phrase the two of you have been living up to, for forty years long.  And that is exactly how I would like to walk through life: with my arms wide-open; with a joyful and healthy heart, because like both of you I want to share this type of happiness with as many people as possible.  That is the value you have taught me! Congratulations and a big fat kiss.  I love you - Tersia"

Just before commencing the food, our Shirley had another surprise up her sleeve.  She had written the most sincere poem which she bravely read out aloud.  We all held onto our handkerchiefs, wary about shedding a tear.  Most of us pulled through - it were dad, gran and Camy that quietly sniffled through the words we heard. 

In-between courses, the younger ones were being kept entertained with the use of balloons.  Some of the children were rather heavy handed which caused the odd one to explode.  The bang made most of us jump, some of us swear:  "Yep, I used the odd foul word!"

After the croquettes and vol-au-vents, the kids decided to separate the dance-floor with a lint and started to play limbo. My dad got involved as well; he is still so young at heart!

Later on that evening, my parents re-lived their opening dance, this time, with the grandchildren circled around them on the background.  It was so beautiful to see!  Bart, our DJ,  kept us going by raising the volume during the fast food song and by introducing many famous party dances...  Hours after, when most of us were in need of a breather, we brought the decorated cakes and little fire sparklers out.  After a slice of well-earned cake and a cup of coffee, to recharge our batteries, the dance-floor came to life again.

Tears of laughter.

It was early in the hours of the very next day and the children were beginning to show signs of over-tiredness.  The battery on our camera was also running low - it was therefore time for our final snapshot.  Karl switched the timer on and quickly posed in the one spot that had been provided for him - the light at the top indicated a six second delay:  "Quickly, let's say 'cheese'!"  One of us started to doubt whether the camera was really working.  All of a sudden the flash went off.  Our attempt had been a success.  Then extremely unexpected, the camera flashed again and again and again - it honestly had been given a life of its own. I screamed hilariously: "Oh dear!"  Karl sprinted towards the camera whilst others were covered in tears of laughter.  Our faces, blooming full of happiness - the MOST Perfect Ending to celebrating 40 years of a fruitful marriage.

The end.

 

And just before I come to a complete standstill, I would like to finalise this blog with the same words our Shirley ended her poem:

"Rene and Paula,
Mum and Dad,
Oma and Opa,

We thank you for your love,
your thoughtful care,
the helping hands you have given us so freely over the years,

but more importantly,
we thank you for turning such a small beginning,
 into something as big and as loving as this!"