My Nan was awesome: a true Londoner, she spoke her mind and giggled a lot. She had pink cheeks, dark raisin eyes, wore cardigans smelling of talc and was always happy to be hugged.
Here are some things she taught me…
She was content with her lot
She and Grandad lived in a modest council house before they moved to a ground floor flat.
She made each home cosy and beautiful with the items they already owned and rarely felt the need to buy anything new (unless you’re talking garden gnomes: Grandad had a thing for those).
She valued her work
She used to talk of her housekeeping role as, “doing my jobs.”
She had set jobs to do each day and did them happily, valuing her contribution to family life.
When she rested, she really rested
There was no multi-tasking for my Nan: either she was up and about with her duster (gingham tabard: pink, baby blue or lemon) or she was feet up in her velour chair with a cup of strong tea (two sugars) and a puzzle book.
She chatted to people on buses
Sure, she told a lot of the same stories, but she was always happy to have a natter. Which I think is rather nice.
She showed her love through food
Now I can’t do this one as I suck at cooking, but my Nan was the *best* cook (especially her legendary roast dinners) and she’d always try to pick the things you really liked for pud (those little rice pots with strawberry jam in the corner please, Nan).
She didn’t worry too much about the world, but focussed on her garden
Which I think isn’t such a bad idea in these times of information-overload and anxiety.
She swore at TV soap characters
I don’t know why that’s a good thing, but it sure was funny to watch.