My two nans both passed away when they were not much older
than “three score and ten”. To reach the ripe old age of 70 was a good thing
back then. I am lucky and blessed to have an amazing Dad
who is 80 this month and a lovely Mum who has been with us on borrowed time for
a few years.
I lost my Granddad when I was five years old. He was a
cheeky chap born within the Bow bells, so a proper cockney. I remember picnics on the beach, walks on the
South Downs and him feeding me my cereal and saying “bombs away” and “cow’s
milk” as he lifted the spoon up high. He fought in the war, it must have been
WW1 and I remember stories of him coming home and eating a tube of toothpaste
as he had not been able to brush his teeth for a very long time. My Mum was heavily pregnant when he died.
Bowell cancer. Ignored symptoms. It is sad that he did not get to meet my
lovely sister.
Nan Head died when I was nine. She lived next door so we
were very close. I naturally bonded with this lady and still feel her presence
now. She was a red head and would be totally made up knowing she has a granddaughter
that has inherited this Irish beauty. She died in our house. The nuns came
round to pray with us. They prayed that her soul be taken into heaven
peacefully. I just wanted them to pray that she did not die. My Dad stood at
the top of the stairs with his head down, thinking, for a very long time. He
was an only child. He still visits her grave with flowers most weeks.
Nan Bass, Ollie, was a real character! Some may say a bit of
a floozy. She loved a man in uniform, especially a police man and after Grand
Dad died had a “friend” called Robin from the Metropolitan Police Band. I kept in touch with him years later at the
Arsenal games as they performed every home match at Highbury. Ollie had a child out of wedlock and Granddad
must have been a good man to take her on whilst pregnant and raise Jean as if
his own, followed by three of their own children. She liked a sherry and was great fun,
especially at Christmas when she would stay at our house and bring lots of
presents (usually knitted toys) and play cards with us. She died on Christmas Day 1985 when I was fifteen
years old. She had stayed at home in
Eastbourne that year as had been feeling poorly. We didn’t have a phone then as
Dad worked for the GPO (before it became BT) and got free calls from the
exchange. A Police Offer knocked on our door as we were eating our turkey to
tell us that Ollie was gone.
Upset as I am to lose three wonderful Grand Parents, I am sadder
about Granddad Head that I did not meet as he died when my Father was five
years old. Bombed down by the Germans at Brooklands, Weybridge in a factory
making war planes. My Dad was alone
during the war years as My Nan had to work. He tells me that he had lots of
friends in the street, but as an only child it was hard when all the kids got
called in for tea/bed and he had to look after himself. The war spirit soon saw
him taken in by the lady across the road from him, “Aunty Kit” who was our 3rd
Nan. Granddad Head would have been so
proud at what a wonderful man my Dad became; always putting others before him
and never malicious, only kind. Benny
Boy describes my Dad as “the closest a man could be to God” which just about
sums him up.
Blood is thicker than water? Not true for everybody, but it
is for me. I feel sad for those
estranged from their families and I feel lucky to be close to my relatives.
There are not many of them. This is why it is so important to me for Charlotte
to have a close relationship with her family, especially her Grandparents. We
don’t know how long they will be here for.
She is an amazing, beautiful, wonderful loving child and I am proud to
share her with those that care about her.
