Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Granny J - The Gallery

I think about her every day:
when I'm using her lovely old slightly battered saucepans, or sometimes out gardening, or knitting ...or when there's snooker on the telly. All things Granny loved, and I love too.
Apart from the snooker.

She was the most amazing cook my Granny, and seemed to be able to conjure up a feast from a few lonely ingredients pulled out of an empty looking fridge. She was a wizard with leftovers, an accomplished soup sorcerer: everything she made tasted magic.

We were always close, and when I married a soldier, that bond grew even stronger. My Grandad fought in the Second World War so she was the one who understood what it was like to have a husband away.
More than I ever could.
Granny was so fond of my husband too: I think the only thing that would have made her happier would've been if I'd married Stephen Hendry. She did love her snooker!

Her wartime experience made her strong: Granny always had a quiet strength about her. A quiet confidence. In her 50's she opened a Cafe/Coffee Shop with some friends in Holywood near Belfast. All the food was homemade, often with fresh homegrown ingredients, and of course there was always plenty of soup.
These sort of places are so common now, but not then; especially not in Northern Ireland in the 70's. It was one of the first of its kind; a breath of fresh air in troubled times, and they were run off their feet. Granny never made a fuss - just got on with it, in her usual understated way.

I've so many memories, but one I often think about now is the time she took me, my cousins and some of our friends on holiday to one of those big caravan parks in the South of France. Seven girls between the ages of 13 and 18, on her own..I mean, can you imagine! And we were complete horrors. Still, through all the squabbling, sunburn, smoking, boy trouble and general teenage angst, she kept her cool.  I've no idea how she coped.
Wish I'd inherited more of her calm.

After my Grandad passed away she lived on her own for years; but none of us worried, because we knew she was happy in her own space. I can still see Granny sitting in her bright airy flat, with some knitting on her knee; telly blaring away...

She was in her 90's when she died. We were lucky to have her in our lives for so long.

But that doesn't stop me missing her.

The Gallery theme this week is Inspirational Women
pop over to Tara's to see why this is especially poignant at the moment. 


  1. I love that snooker reminds you of your granny

    She sounded like a right character!

  2. She does sound like a strong, special lady. Kudos to you for paying tribute to her. Have you thought about capturing her story/life? I may be able to help..

  3. Gosh, 7 teenage girls in a caravan?!! That is truly impressive!
    Lovely post :) xx

  4. Sounds like a truly amazing woman.


  5. What a lovely post - really enjoyed reading it. x

  6. What a lovely sounding woman x

  7. Beautiful tribute, She sounds truly amazing.

  8. She sounds a bit like Mum (still knitting in her 90s) but without the snooker. Of course you misss her.

  9. What a beautiful post. She sounds like an amazing lady, and an inspirational one too! :)

  10. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments. She really was special xx

  11. Wow - she sounds like some kind of lady! Definitely an inspiration

  12. I loved reading this, I got flashes of my own granny as I read it - she sounds amazing, great post.

  13. A lovely post, Tracey. She sounds a wonderful character - very inspiring. Abby x

  14. Tracey, I have things around the house from my own granny, and I love the memories of her that come from using the things she used to use. Also, my daughter has her eyes - especially the 'twinkle', which is fantastic, because it means I see my Granny every day. Grandparents are so special. xx

  15. Lovely post, your granny sounds like she was a wonderful woman who you had a very strong bond with x

  16. SO appreciate all the comments, thank you! She meant such a lot to all of us, and I always knew I'd miss her, suppose i just never realised quite how much x