My nan, the saviour of my childhood, the eccentric 🙂
A kind hearted old dear, short in height and with the biggest knockers you’ve ever seen! Almost looked like she was toppling over. She wasn’t your average nan. Under her embroidered pillowcase lay a set of wooden handled nunchucks. Protection she may have needed, living on her own in an old town house in Sparkhill, Birmingham. Maybe she had secret ninja skills!
As a child, I naively believed my surroundings were normal. I believed the inherent characteristics of my nan were normal…
Until one day, I was allowed into town with a friend from school. A red-headed spoilt girl with freckles like a dot-to-dot page. I searched the shop and she was nowhere to be seen. I stood in the centre of the aisle and called out, in the way my nan would always do so in the supermarket when she was momentarily lost.
Her calls were a mixture of an ambulance siren and a tribe of red-Indians…
My friend appeared from behind a shelf with a look of shock and horror on her already pale and pasty face.
” What ARE you doing? Who makes THAT noise?” She questioned in her teenage attitute manner.
But this noise was so familiar to me. I could always find my nan when she wondered off. Her calls could be heard from one side of Iceland to another. In fact, the people in the country Iceland could have probably heard her!
Even in my teenage years, my nan was fun to be around. She’d sometimes take me to the clothes shops and treat me to a dress. I’d open the curtains of the changing room to find Nan stood in the exact same outfit chuckling to herself, her shoulders bobbing up and down!
My nan is sadly no longer here but I like to believe in a comforting way that maybe she still is. I sometimes call the sirens to see if she hears me….