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Most of us at some point in our lives sadly lose our grandparents, so I would like to tell you how I think about my grandma and grandad on my dads side every day. When we were growing up, we used to do the 100 mile journey to the dismal area of Dudley. The house I remember the most was a terrace house on a busy main road with a street lamp outside it. Grandad always had that as a box to tick when buying a house, street light outside bedroom so wife does not need to put a light on. I do try to keep that part of grandad alive by having bulbs that need replacing in our house.

Now you know when you go somewhere, there are things that are familier to that house.  Grandma,always had lurpak butter and always put it on the fire (grandad switched it on to 1 bar as we arrived) so that it was easy to spread. I loved bread and butter there. Nothing else just butter, the taste was amazing esp as we were brought up on that plastic margarine as most of us 70’s kids were. Grandma always liked to cook and had very bad arthritis in her hand that made them look more like claws. I loved her so very much though, my grandad didn’t get on with many people, but he seemed to always have a soft spot for me and I never like to speak badly of either of them.

Grandad had more jars in his shed than I could count, they all had different sized screws in them set out in no particular order. He bought batteries for his radio, thinking that was more efficient than plugging in to the mains. 

They had a 3 legged foot stool that me and my brother sat on and regularly fell off. There was a top loading washing machine and I remember the mangle that was used to squeeze the water out of the clothes. Ruining most that went through it I would imagine. 

Milk was in glass milk bottles that regularly came in with holes in the  metal lids where the birds had skimmed the cream. Grandad had a Austin 1100 in the garage, that he stopped my dad driving after crunching the gears on one occasion. It was spotless, I wish I knew what happened to that old car they are so reare these days.

Grandma was always so loving towards me and my brother whilst we were growing up.  The house was a large Victorian end terrace with really high ceilings. We always sat round the table and had a spot of cake and or buttered bread, now there  was jam available but I just loved the salted Lurpak. There was always a rose coloured dish in the middle of the table with a silver spoon in it, it was just something that I saw at my grandma and grandads. I never really realised what that spoon would mean to me until they passed. I remember going to my uncle Ron and auntie Roses and telling them how I remembered the silver spoon. Everybody used it when they were alive to put their own sugar in tea or coffee, and it was almost a comfort to see that spoon in the sugar. 

My auntie Rose gave me the spoon which was in her cutlery draw which now sits in our sugar bowl. Every time I make a brew I use that spoon and remember my grandparents with fondness keeping their memory alive.  It brings back memories of Cosby chats round a fire with my grandad. Memories of sitting on my grans knee, memories of family time.  

It does not need to be something valuable to rekindle the priceless memories we all have of our grandparents. But if we don’t remember how will our kids know the stories.

Have a great day


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Everything you read are based on my own experience and my own opinions. I express them here to encourage you. Please share with others, if it meant something to you it will to someone else.