Recently I’ve been to a birthday party unlike any-other I’ve attended in my life time because the party wasn’t going to be at a swimming pool or feature a bouncy castle or even have a nerf war going on like most I seem to get dragged along to these days. Also it wasn’t filled with hundreds of small sugared up little kiddielings (there were some), Oh no the special someone who’s party it was wasn’t celebrating a single digit birthday or even a double digit birthday, she was celebrating a triple digit birthday.
My Nana Margret is a very special lady to me. I remember when I was a little sprog and didn’t eat me school dins, she had an idea for how to feed me her home made grub. The school was only a stone’s throw away from her flat (which was above my parent’s shop) she’d make me dinner every day as long as I walked to the shop without messing around (different time kids could walk the streets home without some news story screaming of neglectful parents or schools).
This changed things for me because my nans cooking was and still is legendary especially her meat and tattie pie that she’d make for her grand kids which would be tailor made for their individual tastes with their initials on top. I always thought I was keeping her company but she, it seems was always looking out for me. Her flat was great for my dinners, I could eat my lovely meals in peace and when I finished I could just in so see the playing field from her veranda. This gave me the heads up on (spying on) my mates because I could see if they’d finish their dinners then I could see them and walk back around to play (great times), but other times if I’d had a rough morning (or it was raining) I could just sit with her and feel looked after.
Anyway this party that she had, gathered all her family together to reminisce about all the good times that we’ve all had with her, all the first meetings, Sunday dinners, little tuts when you’ve changes your hair style or gotten an ear piercing and all the warm hugs that she gave out. Everyone had only good things to say about her and the hundred years she has been leaving her mark on the world and the people in her life.
I love the women who helped bring me up, she was always around to talk too and helping look after us, because my parents had a busy life with the shop open 7 days a week. She was the one around helping my mum and dad out with keeping an eye on my brothers and me while other helped them in the shop. Anyway, she is one hell of a hundred-year-old woman.