A pocketful of .....

A while ago I told a story about my paternal grandmother. This is a story about my maternal grandmother.

When Pippa and I were little we often went to stay with Gran and Pop on a Saturday night. They lived in a flat (apartment), in (looking back) what was quite a posh development! There was an indoor swimming pool on the development and our treat on a Sunday morning was to go for a swim, but that isn’t what this story is about.

Across from the flats were the woods where we loved to go for a walk on a Saturday afternoon. One crisp autumn afternoon we were wrapped up in our coats, hats and scarves and taken by Gran and Pop over the road for our walk and to collect blackberries. This was one of Gran’s favourite stories to tell people and even when she was struggling with dementia she remembered this story and whenever she saw me she would say –“‘ Becky, I asked you where are your blackberries?’ and you would say to me ‘ Grangran, they are in my pocket’’. Yes, I had collected loads of blackberries and squashed them into my coat pocket, much to Gran’s horror! What was her daughter (my mother) going to say when she came to collect me and found the coat stained with blackberry juice! That part of the story was never told as Gran always fell about laughing at this point and then gave me a hug. I don’t actually remember this event, but remember with warmth how Gran loved to tell me this story and how much it meant to her. Unfortunately I have absolutely no photos of the woods or me in the coat, but I do have this photo of me with Gran, Pippa and Pop, taken at about the time in question.

 Me sitting on Gran's knee (don't you just love that wallpaper!)

For more stories pop over to Sian’s blog where there are lots more links to lovely Sunday stories.