We’ve all got them somewhere, female grandparents. Even if they are no longer with us, many of us have fond memories of them. For some there will be regret that we never knew them, or worse …


Youngest granddaughter had an interesting take on grannys. She says they:

  • make soup
  • do scrabble and crosswords
  • look after grandchildren
  • do knitting
  • make silly songs – and she sang me some of our sillier ones
  • fart cabbage, and
  • ride their motorbikes.

Although she says the last two are not necessarily true.

As the younger grandchildren finish primary school and start secondary school, I reckon I will be redundant in about three years time as far as looking after grandchildren is concerned.

This summer, I met a man who was ten years older than me. He told me about his, now adult, grandchildren. I looked ahead into the future. In ten years time the oldest will have left university and be working or pursuing academic success. The middle ones will be half way their university courses or otherwise preparing for the world of work, and the two youngest, will be preparing to leave school and enter the adult world. I really will be redundant!

There was the preschool phase, when I wiped noses and bottoms and got covered in yogurt, snot and worse. When we held hands as we walked to and from nursery. When we sang impromptu songs.

There was the primary school phrase when I watched anxiously for them to come out of school, not wanting to miss them in the crowds of other adults and children. When we enjoyed the long summer holidays together and each year was marked by growing independence and knowledge of the world around them.

At ten and eleven the rite of passage to adolescence begins. the key to the front door, a mobile phone, a Zip Oyster card (we live in London), being allowed to play out and visit friends, travelling to and from school independently, going with siblings to the shops, going to the beach with friends; and more.

All of this with the grownups in their lives quietly watching behind the scenes to make sure everything goes to plan, and helping out when it doesn’t. One of the grandkids even learnt how to successfully invoke the x-plan.

So it looks as if a major function of being a granny is coming to an end. As with my own children, I have helped then towards independence and soon I will be off to ride my motorbike and have granny fun.



The grandkids were in the car, listening to the radio. I was miles away when suddenly a song came to the foreground of my thinking:

“You know what to do with that big fat butt

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle”

There was silence: and then a fit of giggling from the back. The song continued. More wiggling and more giggles. So yes, on one level, it is extremely funny, but on another …

A boy sees a girl with a big bum (yes, it does look big in that) that has been stuffed into the tightest pair of jeans she can find . “I got one question. How do you fit all that … in them jeans?” She is desirable. He talks about what he would like to do to her, offering fame on Instagram in return. It’s not nice. I was surprised that such explicit lyrics, albeit inferred, were allowed to be played on the radio. And this is the song some kids have been singing in the playground.

His life through the eyes of others


I was looking for my favourite Christmas poem and this was on the paper I was using as a bookmark.

“It’ll be here in a minute,” said the sage,
“Look, there it is, just to the left of that date palm.”
And the three wise men mounted their camels and rode off,
Following the star to where the baby king lay waiting.

“I’m afraid,” said the boy, “the light is so bright.”
“Look, there are angels, hundreds of them, singing a song of ‘glory to God’.”
So the shepherds set off.
Looking for the place where the saviour lay.

“He’ll do it in a minute,” said the angel, peering over the parapet of heaven.
“Look! God’s glory is shining on him.
He’s proclaiming Jesus as his best loved son.”
And the twelve friends fell down at his feet.

It all happened in a moment.” The high priest reported.
“Look how the curtain to the holy of holies is torn in two,
From top to bottom – revealing the glory of The Lord. ”
But his colleagues scratched their heads and tried to make sense of it all.

“It only took a minute,” the soldiers said. “The ground rumbled,
We looked, and the stone rolled away.
That’s convincing proof that Jesus has risen from the dead.”
So the priests bribed them to keep quiet and deny that Jesus was alive.

“Soon, in the twinkling of an eye, I’ll come back for you.
Look out for me, everyone will see that it is me.
I will come and get you and take you to the place I have prepared for you.”
And those in the know, wait with eager anticipation, for his return.

Happy birthday grandson

The children were in bed. We put up bunting and banners, blew up balloons, wrapped parcels and went to bed ourselves.

I was woken at 5.15 am by oldest grandson knocking on the wall. The whole chalet could hear! As the nearest adult, I took it upon myself to go and tell him off and create the first chalet rule: no knocking on the walls.

Later, Nanny Sally and I were woken by kisses from the children, and the birthday celebrations began. Middle grandson opened his presents, light sabres, a wii game, pogo stick, books and what he thought was football pyjamas.

Actually it was Grandad Martin’s favourite football team’s strip, that you could actually put on and play football in. Not surprising that grandson thought they were pyjamas. Grandad gives pyjamas to all his grandkids at Christmas. Needless to say, grandson put the strip on and didn’t take it off for the rest of the day! Son in law is definitely outnumbered, everyone else in the family appears to support Grandad’s team!

The kids played in the park; went running; played swingball; went on adventures with the new walkie talkies; went swimming and played an endless game of football: while the adults chilled, knitted or read.

Birthday cake was eaten and it was time to go home. I took son and his children back to the station. They had cycled and walked the two and a half miles from the station. When you are four and six, that’s no mean feat. They showed me the way they came, and I learnt a new short cut.

We loaded up a barrow and took everything back to the cars in the car park. We said our farewells and left. We’ll be back next week.