A candid tale of 20-something humanness and extended note to self.

Monday, 3 October 2016

About my Grandad


His chicken was always 'too dry', and nobody was allowed to speak during the Countdown ad break so he could crack the teatime teaser. We'd play 'snap' on the regular, and the cards would always end up in the air, caught in the laughter between us, and every six months or so I'd count up his loose change pot and he'd let me keep whatever was in it. He was mischievous, impatient, brash - sometimes insufferable, but he was mine. And I loved him.

He would have been 88 today, and he would have pretended he was 21 again, like he did every year because his jokes never changed, and he probably wouldn't have liked his cake or the soppy card I chose, but wouldn't have minded that we'd filled his fridge with a hearty steak and some chocolate eclairs, because well, what else do you buy the man who has it all? And he would have caught my eye across the room and pulled a silly face and we'd have been happy, I think, just to be with each other.

We always were. 
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2 comments

  1. Happy birthday to your grandfather. He sounds like he was a fun person when he was alive.

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  2. Your writing is always so magical, touching and from the heart. Has a way of filling me with both sad and happy tears at the same time. I'm gradually losing my grandad to dementia and it helps to be reminded it's the little things we hold dear. Thank you for writing this, please never stop.

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