Every Saturday my brother, Matthew and I would go to Nanna Celia and Pop's house and have yummy lunch. Ham and coleslaw sandwiches on white bread for me and tomato soup with milk to cool it down, for Matt. There were always lots of treats; sweets, chocolate crispy cake with angel delight and whipped double cream, spiders, milkshakes, fairy cakes and comics. As Pop watched sport all afternoon, Nanna Celia would teach me how to bake, sew and knit and take me shopping. There were never cross words and always plenty of understanding and support as I attempted to master chocolate eclairs, peppermint chocolates, scones and Victoria sponge. On special occasions we got to stay over and were subjected to Paul Daniels and Come Dancing before running upstairs to be tucked in to beds with bedspreads and hot water bottles in cold rooms without central heating.
Those days are happy memories of family times. Through adolescence I became estranged from most of my family and it is with deep regret that I never got to say goodbye to Nanna Celia. I would have liked to tell her how much I enjoyed those Saturdays, how I appreciate all the love that she gave me and what an impact she has had on my life. After many years of focusing on other things I decided it was time to release my inner nanna and rekindle my creative gene. Many of my attempts don't really go according to plan and as I say that I believe that failure is the best way to learn, this blog is a way of seeing whether I get any better at the things that I try. I hope that I enjoy writing it and that you enjoy reading it.
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