Thinking Aunty Dulcie

Our aunty Dulcie died this week. 

She was a major player in my young life and in the life of many of our young friends. 

I cant remember who it was, but some kids that were friends of the family on an overseas trip bumped into her in Italy or somewhere, and much to their parents surprise said "Aunty Dulcie!".

She had no kids but had infinite time for them. 

Aunty Dulcie was that aunty that would rally all the kids and take them all to the park.

She ran a switchboard for GoodYear tires, and as a result could multi task her conversations in what I suspect was magic based. It allowed for maintaining a conversation with the grown-ups at the table, and simultaneously with every kid within earshot that wanted any attention at all. 

In short...

the perfect aunty and half sister to my mum.

So tonight we took mum to a little restaurant we discovered a few weeks ago. Its a Uyghur restaurant owned and run by a couple and their very bored 10yo kid. The kid sits in the dining room playing very loud games on his phone, the mum sits at your table telling you stories about China, and the husband cooks your food and drinks vodka. Shes Muslim, and he seems a little closer to the Russian, more drinky side of the world. 

The place isnt licensed but you can BYO as long as you keep it out of sight. 

So you sit there pouring drinks under the table chatting to the owner and eating some of the best food ever, and then when you leave, theres no charge.

None.

They refuse our money no matter what we do. 

We have no idea why.

They dont know anything about this being a wake as the subject never came up. 

Mum takes an ice cream from the Uyghur supermarket freezer that fronts the place on the way out so I slip some cash into the freezer under the guise of deciding I wanted an ice cream then changing my mind, but I get busted by the kid. 

So the owner is chasing us out into the car park waving my money at us trying to give it back. Mum left her walker at home and is using two walking sticks, so shes only moving at half pace and the owner is catching up fast. 

We try to outrun her with general giggles all round, but mums in front blocking the way and as result we eat for free after all, leaving a perfect wake.

Thanks aunt D

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