Let's chat about Grandparents.
When we talk families, whether in real life or online, there is always a predictable figure that turns up in some way. It's the cute Grandma.
Along with her introduction, and the joyful smile that hijacks your face at even her mention, comes photographs of an adorable white haired old woman, and wholesome stories that involve home cooked meals and being enveloped in hugs and kisses at every opportunity. Whether she's earth side or not, at a moment notice can you picture her in an apron baking cakes, or, forcing a scrunched up bank note into your hand.
Now I'm lucky enough to be a quarter of a century old and still have both of my grandmothers, but you would never call them cute. You wouldn't even dare. When people talk about their grandparents in the ways i've mentioned above, I simply can't relate because I've been served up a double helping of big Scouse Nan energy and I want to tell you all about them.
I say big, but at the approach of 80 and 85, they have the familiar curses of age with shrunken frames and M&S blouses that never quite fit how they used to, despite a joint lifelong commitment to sugary goodness.
Being a typical foodie, when I think of them, I think of their fridges and the different types of toast i'd devour after Saturday night sleepovers. Theresa's fridge always has a packet of ham, some random tomatoes and eye cream (always Loreal) kicking about, and Pat is living for the custard creams, blocks of cheese and maybe even a screwball ice cream or two if we are entering into freezer territory. Despite my Tory aversions, I just can't seem to give up the lifelong love of a Warbatons loaf they've passed on - Pat served up my toast in the farmhouse variety, with half a tub of clover where as Theresa's a lady with a love for an orange Toastie, complete only with a slick of Flora Pro-active. Even now, there is always a loaf in my freezer for emergencies that require toast, and just a single bite makes me feel at home.
I also think about their big strength. Despite the wobble in their walks and their ever increasing list of health conditions and ailments, internally they are made of steel and are scaffolded together with stubbornness and a perhaps a dash too much sass, withstanding any emotional crisis that may cross their path.
Hugs and kisses are never on the cards and baked goods are provided by Mr Kipling. Anything sentimental you try to buy them for a Christmas or Birthday present will just get lashed in a cupboard because it doesn't match their theme or it simply just gets in the way.
Recently, Theresa was feeling frustrated by her now complete deafness, and I tried to give her some sort of socially distanced shoulder hug. It did the trick to diffuse the emotion in the situation because within 10 seconds flat i'd been told to get off because I was a ten tonne tess that was crushing her. Serving up the sass as always.
For what they lack in traditional cookie cutter cuteness, they make up for in their unsinkable, solid as a rockness. It's actually rather funny that I'm as emotional I am, given I was in part raised by two women who are so unflappable, made with such grit and determination. Sure I'm resilience, but I know i'll never be as teflon coated as them. I know I'm blessed beyond belief to have so much big scouse nan energy in my life and I really should take a leaf out of their books more often when it comes to being completely myself.
Thanks to Pat & Theresa, you Queens of realness.