My granny was like the majority of grandmothers who in the days before the first world war had a fairly large family, I remember on cold winter evenings before the days of television sitting with her by a glowing fire in the dim light of the gas mantle and a candle, going through her treasure chest of memories, it was a rare occasion when with some persuasion she would tell me some stories about her life, she had seven children and sadly had lost four of them, two little daughters who died in babyhood, a son of three who died of pneumonia, and a son who died bravely in world war one, how her eyes would fill with tears when she remembered them as she brought out the faded photographs of bye gone days, each one had a story behind it, one of her with my grandpa standing proudly beside her as she sat enigmatic in her long dress with the leg of mutton sleeves, her long hair styled elegantly, and a beautiful feathered hat on her head, he stern and smart with a curled up moustache and a glint in his eye, she had not had an easy life or marriage, but she loved him and was passionate enough to fight for him, and forgive him when he was set to commit bigamy, she went to the church as the service began armed with a rolling pin and dragged him back home leaving his amour crying at the alter, her first employment as a young girl was below stairs as a maid in the mansion of a wealthy family, and more tales she had to tell of that period of her life, eventually she left and married grandpa to raise a family and take care of them all , and she did until all the children were married and grandpa died at the age of eighty two years.

The times never changed much for granny, she never had any of the modern machines or utensils to help her, it was scrubbing brushes, dustpans, mops, sweeping brushes, washing tub, and an old mangle for her, an outside toilet, stone hot water bottles and warming pans, her gleaming black leaded oven for bread making and 6am to 9pm was her work day which took her so long to do because of her crippling arthritis and osteoporosis. As we sat toasting crumpets over the open fire, a warm glow glinting on the shining brasses over the mantelpiece still trimmed the old fashioned way with a red chenille skirt hung with tassels, I thought how scrupulously clean and homely she kept everything, the gleaming ebony black polished sideboard, the shine on the long out of tune piano, and the gold of the witch ball that hung in front of the lace clad window above the red velvet chaise longue, everything a picture of the past, she smiled, and I noticed how each precious memory we had shared seemed to have made her look younger than her eighty five years, she had always kept her hair long and its silver white still abundant tresses graced her almost unwrinkled face, her cheeks blushed like rosy apples. Granny! I asked "how have you kept such a lovely complexion? "she replied with a grin " cold water and washing soap, and no make up or face creams, there are plenty of things in the larder you can use if necessary" she closed her eyes and a little worried I asked "granny are you alright" her eyes opened she smiled again and said "oh yes did you think I was gone, I'm here for a long time yet" and she was for another fifteen more years, she never changed neither then or in my heart, her last words to me were, " be good see you later"
she truly believed it and so do I.

By Lily M



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