I remember visiting Grans House as child. To me it had seemed like something out of a children's storybook, the woods opposite, ripe to be explored made it seem like all those childhood fantasies could come alive any minute. Upon 'casually' mentioning this to gran I remember her telling me you never knew what wonders might be discovered if you just looked hard enough! I can recall the house, the gardens and of the Cat, the king of the home and just having a really lovely weekend at Grans House, the kind of memory that gets fuzzy around the edges but still leaves you with that warm, hug type feeling when you recall it.
At the nature age of 18 I was tasked with babysitting alongside Gran, Callum who was still a baby and Lyndsey, a full on toddler now. Gran decided it would be best if we took a child each approach to our duties. This the battle of 'modern' v 'traditional' began. Most vividly were our, how to best heat/make dinner debates. The best one, was how to make scrambled eggs. I thought Gran was completely barmy to being making them on the hob. What a waste of time I thought (along with, how the hell do you even do that but this I didn't admit). Gran on the other hand was horrified that I was making them using a microwave, surely I was feeding my poor younger sibling tasteless, rubber eggs using this terrible method. I argued less mess and quicker, gran argued better taste and product quality. So we had an egg off. Noone really agreed on an overall winner, becozde Grans eggs did taste and look better and mine did result in less mess and a quicker production time. But what I really remember was that it was fun. She didn't mind the banter. She relished it and challenged me and I loved that time just the four of us.
Rest in Peace Gran and may you rise in glory. God bless x
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