Kindness has been on my mind a bit these last few days. By far the kindest person I ever knew was my Granny, my mum’s mum. I spent so much time with her as a little girl and I can honestly say that she never spoke ill of people, she was always so patient and unfailingly kind and loving.
When you hit your 70s, I guess most people want to slow down. Granny had the energetic two year old me to entertain. Mind you, to be honest, I don’t think I was that energetic. Apparently I just wanted to sit and read books. Plus ca change and all that. I don’t doubt I was demanding, though. I found my voice and the ability to question very early on.
In the school holidays, my 6 cousins and I would take over Granny and Grandad’s tiny flat in the centre of Inverness. Granny would keep us fed, watered and entertained and stopped us all beating seven bells out of each other, too.
I think of her often. I wish she could have met more of her great-grandchildren. Only one of the seven on our side of the family ever knew her.
The list of things that remind me of her is endless. Fairy soap. Fuschias. Cups of tea. Bubble gum. Cairn terriers. Munlochy. Mashed potato with butter. Sweet pea perfume. China cups. Jackie magazine. China dogs. The People’s Friend. Pandrops. Butterscotsh sweets. Harvey’s Bristol Cream.
She would make this tattie soup which I swear is one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. Nobody has ever been able to replicate it. It was divine – muttony and rich and gorgeous.
She was a brilliant granny and I miss her. I wish I’d been a better granddaughter.