My Invisible Aunt

An invisible Aunt, I am afraid, is not something I have ever encountered. 

I have three Aunts in my collection – Dilys, Joyce and Jean, who seem to be growing in visibility each day: on Facebook, at weddings, funerals and christenings and on Sunday afternoons at Mum's house (Sorry Mum – I know I promised not to ‘put you on the internet’ again.)

One does marathons, one does globe-trotting, one gets caught in life-or-death emergencies up icy lake-district crags with her Sheepdog.  In family crises, they group to together like Charlie's Angels and make themselves Jolly Well Visible to whoever is causing the problem.


from left to right: Jean, Joyce, Dilys.





An Aunts’ visibility correlates exactly with the extent to which they are actually Aunties. I have two half-aunts, who live their lives in far off counties, never visit and are only ever glanced upon  when I see their befuddled baby-faces in black and white photographs in old albums, taken long before the delightful fate of Aunt-dom was thrust upon them from the Gods. Yet even in their remoteness, they still manage to make themselves Visible in my life.



Half-Auntie Mary sends me a birthday card every year with a pound coin taped inside. Deducting the cost of a postage stamp that is needed to respond to her with a thank you letter, this leaves me with a gift of 74p, which is still 1p short of a packet of Starburst from the University of Chester’s vending machine. (If you’re reading this on your typewriter Aunty Mary, thank you, keep it coming).

Half-Aunty Leil makes herself visible by telephoning me and hanging up. When I return the call, she denies all knowledge and says ‘how are you, anyway dear?’. These odd little rituals are performed purely as a result of the are the inquashable auntie drive to simply say 'hello, I'm still here, and I'm your Aunt don't you know', which, I believe, kicks in with as much oomph and pazazz as the maternal instinct does in the mother.

On this subject, you may be interested to know that The Great Raymondo is about to become an Aunty to the unborn child of Cat ‘the Deserter’ and Barrie ‘The Australian Kidnapper’ Edwards (he was due a nickname) which will be born at the end of July. I am sharpening my aunty teeth by giving them forthright and sound advice on baby names (Helen for a girl, Raymond for a boy). 

 I fully expect to be as visible an aunt as ever there was. Even more visible than Aunt Agatha to Woosteror Aunt Em to Dorothy. I have my roll of coins and stack of birthday cards at the ready.