I grew up in 1960’s England, at a time when the world was changing very fast. My grandma was my link to the past, while my parents were forward looking and full of life.
My grandma would often tell me that a little of what you fancy does you good, and as she cooked she would give me a handful of raisins or a little taste of whatever she was cooking. Best of all I liked it when she baked cakes, I stood on a chair next to her and watched fascinated, eager to be allowed to scrape the bowl when she had finished. Often she told me stories while she cooked, sometimes it was about always being hungry when she was a little girl, or about coping with food rationing during the war. On Thursdays it was half closing day so we could all eat together, my grandma always cooked fish and chips and I stood on my chair watching as she dipped each piece of fish into raw egg and then into home made breadcrumbs. When we had haddock she showed me the black mark on the skin which she said was put there to remind us of the thumb print of Jusus and the way he blessed the five loves and two fishes and there was enough food to feed five thousand people.
The Bible played a big part in my grandma’s life and she would often read stories to me from my big illustrated children’s Bible. I liked the Old Testament stories best of all, Daniel in the lion’s den, Moses in the bulrushes, David and Goliath and the parting of the Red Sea, best of all I liked the story of God speaking to Samuel. Grandma’s own Bible was kept by her bed, I was too young to read it but I knew I wasn’t going to like it because it was full of rules to stop us having fun. According to Grandma it was wrong to play outside on a Sunday, I could walk in the park but I was not allowed to play on the swings. We couldn’t sew or knit on a Sunday because it would make God unhappy and even the thought of playing cards on a Sunday was terribly wicked.
Unfortunately for my parents Grandma had turned disapproval into a performance art and she could always quote a Bible verse to support her beliefs. When mini skirts became popular Grandma was scandalised and she warned that it was as bad as Sodom and Gomorrah. When my mother wore a mini skirt Grandma announced that she had lived too long and she would be glad when her time came. She disapproved of my mother’s make up too, she told me that the body was the temple of God and we should not put that muck on our faces, just to be sure that I got the message she told me that lipstick was made of beetle’s blood. Poor mum, it must have been hard to keep her temper at times.
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