My Grandma

Grandma was a huge part of my life, some 32+ years. Some of my earliest memories involve going with the family to visit her and Grandad in Cambridge where they lived till I was about 12. Their house was (seemed?) enormous and was filled with adventures, kindness and love. We were always well catered for with Grandma’s trademark recipes. It’s weird the things that stand out though, I remember having grapefruit with a thick layer of sugar on top, real name-brand Ribena in a blue (for boys) plastic glass, hiding in the pantry which had a strange corrugated plastic door and trying on Granddad’s hats. Grandma also had a toy called Panda who was rug-shaped so you could put your arms and legs through the elastic ties and crawl around pretending to be a panda bear. Grandma made this herself and all her four grandchildren played in it at some time. Panda also had an accompanying book which she wrote and illustrated herself about how she and Great Auntie Mabel had gone to buy the materials and stitched panda together ready for the birth of my cousin, Richard. There’d be lots of other games too, the smallest in a set of 5 painted wooden elephants, named Nelly, would be hidden whenever we got back from Cherry Hinton park, or Fitzbillies Chelsea Bun shop, or wherever and we had to find it. Grandma had me believing for many years that she had nothing to do with Nelly’s wanderings and shows the sense of fun she had that never dwindled.

Grandma and Granddad sold up in Cambridge and moved to a bungalow in Monkton Heathfield about 8 miles from Kingston where we lived. The proximity meant we saw a lot more of them and Grandma was a great source for stories about my Dad when he was little, many of which he still firmly denies to this day. One involved when workmen were resurfacing the road outside their house and Dad went out any made tar balls and hid them under his pillow and another how he used to cry when Grandma read him , fellow lake districter, Beatrix Potter’s (frankly quite cruel) stories about Tom Kitten and his comeuppance. When Granddad passed away not that long after moving, Grandma kept his memory alive with stories of his mathematical exploits and fascinating life. It was a huge change for grandma to live on her own again but she kept independent and full of life to the end. She kept on her sewing, making her own clothes and cooking healthy meals for herself. She drove her succession of Ford Fiesta cars up until fairly recently. Her garden put most people’s to shame with something almost always in bloom and neatly tended. She delighted in giving visitors tours of the grounds and telling stories about the resident wildlife, visiting cats, owls, the frog who lived in the flower tray…

Mum and Dad would take her on trips to the Somerset country side with Nanny and they’d chat politely. We’d joke that she kept Nanny in check as she was always on her best behaviour around Grandma. The conversation could get quite surreal at times as their combined hearing issues produced some good-natured but bizarre interchanges. One summer the Antiques Roadshow came to Somerset and Sarita, Mum and I went with Grandma to find out about some of the family heirlooms. One was a porcelain blue toad that, contrary to previous belief, turned out to be a mass produced item worth about 5 quid and would probably be good for putting a plant in or something, according to the experts… We had a grand day though and we laughed about it many times and now that particular item has a real story to go with it.

Grandma would drive up to Kingston for Sunday dinner and bring a bag of gourmet chocolate from the food section of Marks and
Sparks and a dessert she’d baked to perfection, a crumble, lemon meringue or if the season demanded, Christmas Pudding containing foil-wrapped pound coins and invariably delicious. She’d also bring the parts of the Sunday paper she’d already read and done the crossword in and occasionally join in for a highly competitive post-prandial game of scrabble. Despite being highly independent occasionally she showed signs of being a little sheltered in her home. She’d read in the papers about some new technology such as the ‘one-Pod” which we’d have a go at explaining to her, and my favourite was when she discovered a new restaurant in Taunton where they were helpful, friendly, have great disabled access and extremely tasty sandwiches. She couldn’t remember the name, but after further enquiries mum and dad worked she’d been to McDonalds. She had this capacity for wonder at the most unlikely of things. If sheltered somewhat from the 21st century, she was fully in touch with the latest events in the family, relishing looking at and sharing photos and letters sent from her grandkids (in the UK and California and Mexico) of her great-grandson, weddings, travels and other news. Her living room was increasingly filled with photos of the family including one of me with the 12-string guitar I bought with the money granddad left me, and lots of everyone at various stages of their lives. It was a room filled with smiles. She’d often dig the Atlas out to wonder at where we were all living. Grandma also had an extensive slide collection and every year would dig them out, set up her projector and watch them by herself thinking of happy times and mentally revisiting her favourite places.

One of my last visits to see Grandma in person was last December when we accompanied her to Taunton’s Saturday morning market where she knew everyone, stopping to ask where the fishmonger had gone, comparing notes with the plant stall vendor, haggling over vegetables and cheese and generally enjoying life to the fullest. I was proud to be with her and just generally impressed at how she carried on so happily and also at how much fruit and veg one person could get through in a week.

When you get to Grandma’s age, life isn’t without its struggles and she had a series of increasingly less minor health issues that made for a tough time towards the end, though she would never complain. She’d mention the latest problem when pushed and then change the subject and probably offer you another chocolate biscuit. Instead of ‘burdening” (as she put it) people with her problems, she’d manage on her own and would take some persuading that we really did want to take her out to the country or talk to her on the phone and so on, being as polite as possible in the process. She certainly would not have wanted to relinquish her admirable independence and have long stays in hospitals convalescing only to return to a life which she felt would occasionally ’cause a fuss” to others. After lots of reflection, I think if Grandma could have chosen the manner of her passing, she’d have opted for this exit. Suddenly, peacefully, in her sleep after a fully-conscious smile filled visit with the family and looking forward to seeing more relatives and contemplating future travels.

A toast then, to Grandma, with her ever-ready smiles, surprisingly strong hugs, generosity of spirit and incredible kindness over all those 89 years.

Cheers!