Gran.......

The lady standing beside me is Gran, she became, with Pop, a mainstay of my life. I loved her dearly. Daughter of Sam McCoy she was not one to be messed with. Laddo could get away with most things, nobody else! 

When Pop died Elaine and I would take our daughter to Gran’s in N. Wales, in the boot was my toolbox and drill. There would be work to do. Each evening she would babysit, “Don’t bring anything back for me.” Each evening we would return to find a place set for her to munch through the fish and chips she loved. 

One morning she grabbed Elaine’s arm and said, “Come with me, if you are going to cook for my son you need to know how to do it properly.” I got on with mowing grass. The smells from the kitchen, Nirvana. Elaine was introduced to Buttermilk, sour milk, kneading, sultanas, raisins, soda bread and on went the list. I have much to thank Gran for, that day of cooking with Elaine is one of them. Gran never, ever called her Elaine, always “Yer woife.” 

The Senior Grandsprog was 3, a brilliant give it all toddler. We had been at the swimming pool, had a great flail in the water and were now waiting outside for Grandma to collect us after doing the shopping. Grandpa had been instilling a bit of advanced training in the art of meeting people. “Hello, how are you, nice to meet you.” The words tumbled out, often in the right sequence. 
A young lady with all the appropriate parts in the correct location and dimensions that boggled my eyes came through the doors clad in Lycra. The Brains Trust looked up with his beautiful eyes and baby teeth, “Hiya!!!!” - “Well hello!”
The young lady was absolutely caught out. The youngest male ever had tried to capture her attention! Plus the lad was sitting beside a crumbling relic of a human. As she walked away she continually looked back at James, she wore a huge smile and little else. G’pa was happy, James was happy and she was confused.