Memory Monday - Paternal Grandmother

Today's memory is a tribute to my paternal grandmother, who died in 1994 after a long, healthy, happy life.

My paternal grandmother was a petite woman, of steadily shrinking height and what I would today call 'The old school' She had very high principles and morals and an even greater respect for the church. Devoutely religious, she attended church every Sunday morning without fail, and until later in her life, every Thursday morning too. It had been the same church for all the years she had lived in the town since moving down from Northamptonshire just after she married my grandfather. I had never known my grandfather, he died 5 years before I was born, but he was the headmaster of the Church of England school that was a part of the Church my Nan attended, and it was this job I believe that brought them down to the south. Although she was from a very religious background, she would never preach at you about God and the Bible, but she did expect you to live by certain standards.

I can clearly remember that she would sweep (not hoover, she never did own one of them) the carpet in the living areas on her hands and knees, using a small dustpan and brush. This was no mean feat in the kitchen area where there was a coal/wood burning Rayburn stove. Her washing was done in a washer, (like half a twin-tub) with a mangle attached to the back, and many days we would help her squeeze the sheets through, catching them as they came out the other side so that they would not drape across the scullery floor. Sometimes it caused arguments with my siblings because we all thought it was such fun to crank the handle round and watch the dripping wet bed linen go in one side and emerge on the other in a super flat and considerably drier state.

Her cutlery, tableware and some of her provisions were not stored in kitchen cupboards like today, but kept on shelves in the pantry. A bare concrete floored small room just off the kitchen, it was dark and cold, with no natural light, but as a young child I loved this little room. It was full of all sorts of interesting things. There was a small stack of plates in various sizes and designs which were for everyday use, or for the likes of us grandchildren lest we should drop and break them. There was a second, smaller pile of 'Sunday Best' crockery, including matching cups and saucers. Why did the older generation always keep things for 'Sunday Best'?

Her television, which for most of her life was merely a black and white T.V was used very little. Not at all like today, where a family now see's relaxing at the end of a hard day as a cause to sit down and put the T.V. on to watch the best of what they can find. Her telly would go on for specific programs and then be turned off again, and woe betide anyone who made more noise than the telly. She would give you one of her 'looks' and tut loudly..lol.. I can still here you Nan.

She had fruit bushes in the garden and was forever complaining about the rabbits eating the fruit before it was ripe enough to pick and use. She was so funny, that us kids would often get bored and decide that a little joke was in order. One or more of us would run full pelt into the house shouting

"Nan, Nan, there's a rabbit at the gooseberry bush"

to which the standard response, and of course the one that we were waiting for was to curse the rabbits, grab a tea-towel and trot outside as fast as she could. With the tea-towel held by both hands and flapping around like a flag, she would rush down the path toward the gooseberry bushes waving the tea-towel and saying something like

"Shoo, shoo you litte devils, get off, shoo"

Well, us kids would all just be sat there on the lawn, watching the show that we had engineered, and falling about laughing our heads off. At which point, Nan would realise that she'd been had... again... and would tell us we we're little terrors, but she always laughed, always.

She would often bake cakes and pies, and her home-made marmalade was second to none. I have a particularly soft spot for a good ol' fashioned mince pie, always have. Mince pies were one of my Nans regular baking features, and because she knew how much I loved sweet mincemeat she would always use the last, already double-rolled, piece of pastry to make me a special little mincemeat jalousie, or some similar divine item. It always made me feel special, because it was just for me!

Yet again, I have surprised myself with the things that have come to mind once I started to type. I could go on all day, but alas, time has beaten me again.

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