When I was a child I loved setting off in the car on a Friday evening after Mum finished work to drive the couple of hours down the motorway to stay at my Grandparents in Nottinghamshire.
If we had time we would stop off at the original Harry Ramsden's en route and have fish and chips. We made this journey once a month and it was always the same routine.
Friday night we arrived at Nana and Grandad Turners to find the kitchen sweltering hot as Nana would have been baking most of the day using her small oven which was heated by the fire. Summer or winter it made no difference, she would bake a table full of pies, pastries and other treats for us all.
We would sit in the front room, watch TV, talk and catch up with who was doing what, where and with whom - you know the usual family conversations. I would occupy myself colouring, winding skeins of wool for Nana's knitting around Grandad's hands, or playing with one of the toys they had stashed away for me and my cousin Tracey.
Nana always had Limeade in the house and a few bottles of Stout she kept for Grandad's sunday dinner. If I was good I was allowed to have a shandy!
Saturday morning we got up dressed, had breakfast, wrapped up a few pies and such like and said goodbye. We would drive another half an hour or so to Nottingham where Dad would drop Mum and I off at the Victoria Shopping Centre so I could be dragged round the length and breadth of the city looking in what seemed like every single shop. We worked our way through the streets until we ended up at The Broadmarsh Centre, where we finished shopping and caught the bus back to Nana and Grandad Wilkes' house.
After unpacking Mum's shopping ( I only had £5 to spend so mine usually consisted of new pens or drawing pads or some kind of crafty thing) we were given a lovely tea of pies and cake. Saturday evening we would watch programmes like The Horse of the Year Show, Morcambe and Wise, The Golden Shot etc. I slept in the little box room where there was a single bed, a bookcase and bags of pigeon corn for Grandads pigeons. There was one book in particular that I still remember today. It was about a family of beavers. I loved it. It was one of Grandad's Sunday School prizes which made even more special. I don't know what happened to that book, maybe he gave it away to some local charity shop?
The following day I would get up early with Grandad and go out with him to see to the pigeons at the loft down on the allotments. He had one bird he had named Mary. I was allowed to hold her as she was one of the tamer ones. I would use the big scoop and dish out the corn while Grandad cleaned them out. Then we would head back home and have a breakfast of tinned Grapefruit followed by porridge - or sticky ribs as Grandad called it. Then we sat down to Sunday lunch before setting off back home.
These weekends meant that I got to spend a lot of time with my Grandparents, fortunately them living close to each other meant it was easier to do. In the summer holidays I would also stay with each of them for two weeks. I was very fond of all of them and have a lot of wonderful memories.
This isn't the case for my sons, Alexander, the youngest in particular.
Jordan was only two when my Mum died so has no recollection of the times he spent with her, but he did see his Grandad and stayed with him a few times after he re-married, but other than that saw them infrequently. His other Grandparents live in the same town as us and so they were around a lot and he would go and stay down there when we went out etc.
Alexander however rarely sees my Father as they live some distance and only come up to see us if they have to. Otherwise we meet up mid way for lunch to hand over Christmas presents. Both boys get bored and now neither want to come when we do meet. It's not ideal but we don't travel over there often because to be honest I feel as though we are getting in the way of them doing something else they would rather do, and it's a long drive just to say hello, have a coffee and then come home again.
His other grandparents, although still local are old and very frail now and have never been very active with Alexander. He's there, but in the background. He is treated no differently to his cousins but being the youngest seems to be the source of mild irritation at times.
It is such a shame that he has missed out on the normal Grandparent relationships. The treats and cuddles and little moments that you treasure with them. As in the picture above of Grandad and I feeding the swans on the river. Had my Mum been alive they would both have been spoiled rotten thats for sure.
I'm not expecting to be a grandparent myself any time soon but hope I am able to spend time with my grandchildren and be an influence in their lives if I do have them.
I now also realise that it may be better to ask the Cubs leaders for full instructions on carrying out experiments like this in future. Apparently I was supposed to remove the cotton wool disc so that the cress could grow. Ok so I did remove it eventually but I think by then the damage was done and all we got was a rather sparse couple of strands of cress. Although probably enough for a bit of a comb-over for 'Funny Eye Guy' tater.
