Maternal Grandparents

Although the war was a rather big interruption in the early years of their marriage, my grandparents survived intact, although was tragedy. Like so many people my grandmother’s brother signed up to fight in the war, serving with the RAF. His plane never came back, lost somewhere over the sea.

But life continued, it always does, and they began to build a new life for themselves. They moved to Moss Side, Manchester, where they started a business selling prams.

They had two more children, another boy and a girl, who (of course) would be my mum. They grew up in a big house attached to the shop, and were joined my mum’s cousin, living a good life, although only once I heard my mum’s cousin talk about things, where she said: “We call them the good old days, but you don’t know how it was.” She never elaborated more.

When my grandmother’s oldest sister lost her husband in a truly horrendous accident (Motor cycle. Blind corner. Bus. No crash helmet.) She eventually met someone else and moved to a small cottage in Devon. The cousin who had been living with my grandparents followed.

There is a lot that could be said about my mum’s upbringing. There are certain things that make you think. All four of the kids that grew up in that house had issues that would surface in later life, or perhaps it was just bad luck.

But there are some wonderful stories too. My grandfather was Jewish, even if he was not a practicing one, and he stood by certain things. They celebrated Christmas, but it was all down to my grandmother – although he was the instigator of one of my mum’s fondest memories. The decorations would not go up until Christmas Eve; after the children had gone to bed so when they came down, they came down to the smell of roasting turkey and a fully decorated house and presents!

And it would seem that my grandfather had inherited his father’s entrepreneur skills, on at least two occasions he wanted to get involved with a new fad that seemed to be starting, saying it could make money. Both times my grandmother talked him out of it. The first was to do with the selling of tinned dog food, the second was converting part of the pram shop into a laundrette. Both times he was told that they would never catch on...

There were ups and downs, both he and my mum were overweight and they even went to see a doctor about it. The doctor prescribed a strict diet and told them both they HAD to lose weight. Feeling subdued they came out of the doctors and he bought two huge bags of sweets to eat on the way home, to make them feel better. Sad and funny at the same time.

My mum was quite badly burned in an incident where she fell into an open fire. But things were mostly good. The middle bother was starting to show signs of being a tearaway, but nothing too serious; while my oldest uncle was doing well at school.

My mum lost one of her closest friends. She was always ill with a serious heart condition, and would quite often take naps in the afternoon. On a particular day she told her mum, who was ironing, that she was tired and was going to lie down, then said goodbye. It took a few minutes for it to sink in, but the mum realised she never said goodbye, just see you later, or something like that. She found her lying as though asleep, but just gone.

Her other friend, her best friend was in a terrible position, she was ill, her parents were ill and it was in 1960 that my grandparents stepped in and said they would adopt her. As things were set in motion, the year came to an end and there was a surprise for all three of the children. Completely off his own back my grandfather bought them all a Christmas present; not form mum and dad, but just from him.

As 1961 came to life the adoption process moved slowly on, and one weekend my grandmother, grandfather and mum (then thirteen) went to the cinema to watch the war epic, The Longest Day.

During the screening my grandfather, his wife on one side, his daughter on the other, at the age of 49, sat upright and died.

I think the implications of this still sit heavily with my mum’s family today. And I never really thought about it when I was younger, but it occurred to me much later in life that my Grandmother never once took us to the cinema, and as far as I am aware, never went. I can remember my mum taking us to see Disney’s Cinderella and what a big seal she made of it at the time; now I wonder whether it was the first time she had been since that day since 1961, and marvel at how brave it must have been.

But in all things it was an ending.


As I finish this it seems odd, but right to say that this Sunday (15th Jan. 2012) will be my grandmothers 96th birthday. And yes that is present tense. She is still with us. Not half what she once was, but more than she could be.