Angel Nanny
When you’re little you have this idea in your head of what grandmothers should be like. Like the ones described in Hans Christen Anderson fairly tales, with snow white hair and soft hands covered in age spots. Their homes always smell of cinnamon and ginger and they’re adept at making every sweet baked goodie known to man. You don’t imagine that your granny were ever young like you, but that they were always sweet, warm, loving elderly ladies whose sole mission in life is to make us – their grandchildren –happy with gifts and love and chocolate cookies.
When we met our maternal Nanny – she came to visit and instead of sugar and spice she told us to brush our teeth and eat our veggies. She came with practical gifts and wouldn’t listen to tattling. She dusted us off when we fell over and spanked us when we were naughty and although she could cook a mean fried rice or fish supper, she didn’t bake cookies or make strawberry shortcake.
Our paternal Gran we visited once in a blue moon and our long flights back to Germany were made more exciting as we imaged the gifts she would have lined up and ready for us. We arrived to find dollies and books and trips to the supermarket where she filled her trolley with yogurts, chocolates, biscuits and gummy bears. She gave us great big granny cuddles and didn’t force us to eat our veggies or spank us when we were naughty, she didn’t have to, we had our grandfather to do that – and all it took was one icy stare and all our plates were cleaned and our noises reduced to whispers and peeps.
When I met Angel Nanny for the first time I thought again of those fairy tales I used to and still do love. Her hair in little curls, her nails painted and he glasses resting low on the tip of her nose. Her hands were soft and spotted with age, but still warm and gentle after so many years of building and living life. She reached out and held my face between her hands looked me in the eye and with all encompassing feeling and genuine interest and said
Hello dear, It is such a pleasure to meet you.
I smiled at her and felt my heart warm. She shook slightly and I like to imagine that this is because of a lion’s heart encased in the tiny frame of an old lady.
Some days when we sat together all of us breaking bread and celebrating everything and nothing I would watch her and wonder where she was. Her eyes would soak in thought and I felt myself relax curl up and imagine what she dreamt about.
Perhaps she was 16 again, young and carefree, her spirit a vast and open canyon waiting for love, life and experience to fill it. She talked about being a child and how her parents gave her a farthing for her pocket money and how she would run to the shops and buy sweeties. I asked her once what it would cost to go out with her friends for a bite to eat in those days and she explained that they didn’t go with their young girlfriends like we do today to a restaurant for dinner, a glass of wine and good old gossip. She said her mother would give her a ha’penny (half penny) which she would take down to the chippy and get fish and chips for the family. My mind swam, there was 67 years of difference between us and in her time fish and chips could be bought to feed a whole family for a denomination we don’t even have anymore.
At Christmas she carefully cleaned and polished coins which she dropped into her Christmas pudding for luck. She made sure there were enough so that everyone was likely to get a slice with one in it. Even at 98 her Christmas pudding tasting like magic covered in custard. Throughout the year she sent over Nanny cakes (cupcakes) which she lovingly baked at home for her grandchildren and divided up carefully so each of them got a fair share. She knitted roll neck warmers and little caps and apologised that she couldn’t do more.
Her eyesight faded and her hearing needed a bit of help, but her spark never left her. She heard and responded and took part in it all. she laughed at jokes we were sure would pass her by and made her own witty remarks that we almost missed. She astounded, touched and made me feel like I was a part of her family, but most of all, she was the Nanny that fairy tales talk about. She is the Angel Nanny that everyone wishes was their own.
Angel Nanny
1909 - 2007
When we met our maternal Nanny – she came to visit and instead of sugar and spice she told us to brush our teeth and eat our veggies. She came with practical gifts and wouldn’t listen to tattling. She dusted us off when we fell over and spanked us when we were naughty and although she could cook a mean fried rice or fish supper, she didn’t bake cookies or make strawberry shortcake.
Our paternal Gran we visited once in a blue moon and our long flights back to Germany were made more exciting as we imaged the gifts she would have lined up and ready for us. We arrived to find dollies and books and trips to the supermarket where she filled her trolley with yogurts, chocolates, biscuits and gummy bears. She gave us great big granny cuddles and didn’t force us to eat our veggies or spank us when we were naughty, she didn’t have to, we had our grandfather to do that – and all it took was one icy stare and all our plates were cleaned and our noises reduced to whispers and peeps.
When I met Angel Nanny for the first time I thought again of those fairy tales I used to and still do love. Her hair in little curls, her nails painted and he glasses resting low on the tip of her nose. Her hands were soft and spotted with age, but still warm and gentle after so many years of building and living life. She reached out and held my face between her hands looked me in the eye and with all encompassing feeling and genuine interest and said
Hello dear, It is such a pleasure to meet you.
I smiled at her and felt my heart warm. She shook slightly and I like to imagine that this is because of a lion’s heart encased in the tiny frame of an old lady.
Some days when we sat together all of us breaking bread and celebrating everything and nothing I would watch her and wonder where she was. Her eyes would soak in thought and I felt myself relax curl up and imagine what she dreamt about.
Perhaps she was 16 again, young and carefree, her spirit a vast and open canyon waiting for love, life and experience to fill it. She talked about being a child and how her parents gave her a farthing for her pocket money and how she would run to the shops and buy sweeties. I asked her once what it would cost to go out with her friends for a bite to eat in those days and she explained that they didn’t go with their young girlfriends like we do today to a restaurant for dinner, a glass of wine and good old gossip. She said her mother would give her a ha’penny (half penny) which she would take down to the chippy and get fish and chips for the family. My mind swam, there was 67 years of difference between us and in her time fish and chips could be bought to feed a whole family for a denomination we don’t even have anymore.
At Christmas she carefully cleaned and polished coins which she dropped into her Christmas pudding for luck. She made sure there were enough so that everyone was likely to get a slice with one in it. Even at 98 her Christmas pudding tasting like magic covered in custard. Throughout the year she sent over Nanny cakes (cupcakes) which she lovingly baked at home for her grandchildren and divided up carefully so each of them got a fair share. She knitted roll neck warmers and little caps and apologised that she couldn’t do more.
Her eyesight faded and her hearing needed a bit of help, but her spark never left her. She heard and responded and took part in it all. she laughed at jokes we were sure would pass her by and made her own witty remarks that we almost missed. She astounded, touched and made me feel like I was a part of her family, but most of all, she was the Nanny that fairy tales talk about. She is the Angel Nanny that everyone wishes was their own.
Angel Nanny
1909 - 2007
posted by Teaine at 10:06 AM
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