Remembering my Granny

Allergies & Asthma

Today is the anniversary of my Granny’s death and my Uncle’s. I have many stories about my Granny which make me laugh and make me cry but today I wanted to share a few of those here.

Granny during her birthday celebration when we made her try beer that my Dad was involved in.

It was not until after my Grandpa died that my relationship with my Granny really grew. If I was staying with Granny and Grandpa, Granny would shoo both of us out the door to walk up the hill so she could get peace. Grandpa and me would laugh because there was never peace with Granny. She was always talking and asking questions. We would come back from walking up the hill and she would interrogate us about what we talked about. She never got that we could go for a walk for a few hours and just be in companionable silence. Grandpa was a man of few words but the words he said meant a lot and you listened to them.

My 18th Birthday with Granny and Grandpa

One of my favourite memories with Granny and Grandpa was when they took me back to school one year. We went into the boarding house and my Granny loves taking photos so of course she had to take lots of photos of it. This also reminds me of the time I was in hospital down in Winchester when my cousin Fiona came to see me. (My Granny I think always felt a bit odd about my asthma because she had bad asthma and has it come from her was always a question.) Granny had dispatched Fiona to take lots of photos of me in the hospital ward so she could see how I was and see where I was. It felt very odd having my cousin take lots of photos of me in hospital so Granny could see me. This was the days before face time and video calling.

Granny and Grandpa on Grandpa’s 90th Birthday

There are so many stories about Granny but some really cant go on here. If anyone wants to here more please say.

Me with my Granny and my Dad at Christmas

I remember when Granny died so vividly. She had been in bed a few days with a chest infection which was making her asthma worse and I had been in each day after work to visit. With it being the run up to Christmas I was writing all her Christmas cards for her as she was not up to doing them. It was a job I regretted offering to do as there were hundreds of them.

The day she died I got a call at 3:30 in the morning to go and see her as she was struggling to breath a bit. The GP came out to give her a nebuliser. Little did I know that the GP was the husband of one of the renal Drs I work with. Granny loved it because in his effort to move some of the junk in her chest he gave her a hug and shake to shift it. She went on about it a lot during the day. I had to work and then went to see her after work to write the rest of her Christmas cards.

I was beyond exhausted after spending half the night up with Granny then having to work then go back to see Granny to finish off the Christmas cards.

Anyone that knows my Granny knows that you basically do as she says. She may only have been 5 ft but she was feisty.

I went home from Granny and totally forgot to post the Christmas cards which she had told me to do several times. So being the good grand daughter that I am I popped back out to the post box with all the Christmas cards and popped them into the pillar box.

Then I got the phone call.

The nursing home called to say that Granny had died. My first thought was “oh shit hundreds of people are going to get christmas cards from a dead person”.

I couldn’t believe it but then I could imagine my Grandpa and my Uncle up above laughing at me for posting all the Christmas cards because I was too scared to not do what Granny told me to do.

Of course today I also cant forget Uncle Dermot who died tragically in 1998. I cant believe I am almost the same age as he was when he died. He was 36 but lived life to the full. He was dedicated to life in the Army and part of him still lives on in the Army as his sword is now carried by the Adjunct of 1Scots so part of him is still with his beloved army.

Uncle Dermot RIP

I do miss my Granny so much, I miss the times spent with her when she drove me up the wall like shouting in the ward when she was in hospital saying no grand daughter of hers would visit with a shirt half tucked in and half untucked, or when me and Grandpa would wind granny up about the flavour of the soup she was giving us for lunch like it would be carrot soup but we would convince her we thought it was mushroom or something.

One of my last outings with Granny. She took photos of different stages of the Queensferry Crossing being built. She did the same for the original Forth Road Bridge from the exact same point.

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