When me and my siblings were little; we had a ‘Nanny Green Door and a Nanny Black Door’ (This memory of how we categorised our two Nan’s, warms the cockles of my ‘eart).
Nanny Black door was my idol (minus her alcohol consumption levels).
She was a lush, and a really funny sweet one at that. She drank Holsten Pils lager ‘cos according to Nanny Black Door…“you can drink that if you’re a diabetic, ‘cos all the sugar’s already turned to alcohol” 😉
She was mostly tipsy when we visited, and she never recognised us when we knocked at her door! Which was always a bit odd, but also really funny to all 3 of us.
When we divulged our identity, she used to say the same thing every time, over her shoulder in Bob’s direction (Bob was her 387th ‘live in lover’ 😉 I joke…Bob was maybe my 7th step granddad type figure) … I was blessed in this area, with abundance 😉
Right after we said “Nan, It’s us, Leigh, Theresa and Dawn
She would say
“Ohhhhh Bob, ain’t they grown” and then she called us all Leigh for the remainder of the visit (crazy old coot) ;0
Bob’s favourite phrase was “Beautiful bit o’ bacon Barb, Beeeeautiful” and she would say “Ohhh ain’t it Bob, Beeeautiful bacon”
One year we went to Nanny black doors for a visit, cos she lived round the corner from Nanny green door (and we used to have the ‘bestest’ Christmas’s ever, at her house every year) so we were in the area during the festive season
Anyhoo… we knocked on her door and she opened it, leaned over her shoulder and said “Ohhhhh Bob, there’s carol singers at the door, get me purse will ya darling?
(Ohhhh how I am chuckling, as I meander down my own memory lane of special old biddies)
INSERT – AAAAAHHHH…you’ve clicked on more which means YOU love at least one old person
(SUBLIMINAL MESSAGE – please love your biddies symbolically by LIKING my POST here
Written in honour of the marvellous Nan’s and Granddads everywhere 😉 it only takes a mili second) (you are tough cookies to crack!)
You didn’t register that last section ….Oooooo but you did ;))
Nanny green door taught me how to tell the time when many teachers had tried; then rolled their eyes at my ‘dense-ness’, and fled the scene!
She taught my ‘non spatially aware’ fingers how to tie shoe laces, with a method that few others use, but it works for me
She was the best and most exciting story-teller I ever knew as a kid; she wiped the floor with Jackanory! And boy oh boy… has my Nan got some stories? YES!
Me, Big Leigh, and Lil’ Trissus, would sit in front of her with our legs crossed in a little circle, with our jaws on the floor at her stories of packs of wolves, saving the lives of burns victims with limestone, attacks on her by multiple collie dogs where she had to leap into one of them underground war pits… Ian letting all the birds out of the Avery at school
All her stories were amazing
My original Grand-dads
They sadly died quite early in my life. One granddad died as I entered the world. I was born on the 3rd and he came to see me minutes after I popped out, then he was admitted himself and he passed away on the 7th or 8th (I’m not sure which). On ancestry dot.com I found my birth certificate and his death certificate, and as they didn’t record the day (just the month and the year) it was really moving seeing both our ‘entrance and exit badges’ together…with exactly the same thing written on them
My other granddad was around for a bit longer; but the stories of him that I have learned in my twenties and thirties (EARLY 30’s I scream), about his colourful existence, have added oooodles to his memory. Every Saturday he would come to our shop, and he and my dad would scour the racing section of the news-paper for the ‘form’ (and all that other squit you look at, if you’re a scientific type gambler)
They would go to the bookies round the corner and place their bet on a horse each, then come back and dad would make 2 bacon sandwiches for them with proper doorstep slices of warm bakery bread. They used to stand in front of the double bar electric fire warming their ass’s, munching on their sandwiches (sandwiches that for some reason, us kids never got more than a whiff of, and neither did Mum, who was busy slaving away running the shop! (Poor Mum and How rude, equally ;))
In spite of the bacon teasing, one of my favourite childhood memories was watching their animated ass’s jump around, as the horses rounded corners and leapt over hedges. I loved hearing them screeching at the TV, and also their ensuing
‘Yelps of joy’
‘Torrents of abuse’ – that followed the end of each race, as their horses won and lost!
I adored Saturdays then, I felt like a grown up just being allowed to be in the ‘back room’ while the shop was open…
I would be a ‘non time telling bacon chasing broken women, who tripped on her own laces every 5 minutes’, without my special old biddies. These people made my Mum and Dad for Betty’s sake! And how important are they in all our lives? VERY!! I’m sure you’ll agree for many reasons…Aside from being the crucial factors in our existence and DNA formation
As well as being responsible for the size of our noses and butts!
Love the biddies (I know you already doooooooo!…So save them toooooo!… By liking-a-roooooooo!…On the link to the evolution schoooooool!…Of care homes and policy roooooooles!
I will love you tooooooooo, if you dooooooo!… this extra love could be viewed as an asset in the eyes of some! Perhaps!
Ohhhh bugger it…All of you have some love anyway, enough if you hate biddies, I’m sure you have very good reasons for your ‘non like’ decision (don’t let my sobbing racking howling distraught body, sway ya in any way ;)!