Memories of Grandma: Part Two
Good morning everyone, this is part two of three, about memories of my Grandmother.
If any of us asked our Grandmother how old she was, she would reply, “As old as my tongue and a little bit older than my teeth.” For it was impolite to ask a lady her age. Once we understood the meaning behind the words, we would ask her, just so she could come out with her phrase again; and then we’d exclaim, “Oh Grandma!” and smile. I recall Grandma telling me, that there were certain other things that ladies should not do …like run or whistle, and we were always on our best behaviour in her company, because she had our respect.
Grandma was very much of the era, that you never threw anything away and you tried to be as resourceful as possible with what things you did have. So, when she went to do some grocery shopping, she would keep all the brown paper bags and hang them on a hook in the bathroom… for personal use! In emergencies, when she’d run out of bags, she’d have a roll of “tracing paper” type toilet paper. Up until she died, she never did progress to softer paper.
As Grandma had poor eye sight due to glaucoma, she would sometimes wear a patch over one eye and use a large magnifying glass to read the newspaper and do the newspaper crossword. (I still have her magnifying glass.)
In the Living Room where we would sit with her, was an old sofa with a floral cover to hide its state. I recall finding old pennies which had fallen down the sides, and being told I could keep them. A few years later, I saw a radiogram appear, which stood on the top of a small television, and on top of the radio was a tin of barley sugars and a date calendar. To be allowed a barley sugar, was a great treat, but we knew we should never ask and wait to be invited to have one.
Above the fire was a sizable mirror, which hung with heavy chains, and filling nearly the entire left wall, was a display cabinet. It housed all her glass-wear and pottery, which she had collected, or had been handed down by her parents. Adjacent to the cabinet, was a large studio portrait of my Father, which was taken before any of us were born.
The wooden dining room table, was pushed up against the wall and was outsized for the room and heavy. It housed a substantial glass bowl, which was filled with fruit, and boxes of chocolates at Christmas time. We always knew they would be there at that time of the year; they were as familiar, as the pieces of furniture in her room.
We only lived near my Grandmother for the first few years of my life. Afterwards, we would travel down about once a month. One year, as it was getting closer to my Grandmother’s birthday, I wrote to my Father and this is the letter I gave him. I think I was learning how to join-up. 😊
