Diary of A Modern Gran | Family Rules

By Allison Hay

Illustration: Istockphoto

Every now and then, when I’m writing a novel, I go away for a week so I can concentrate on my writing and nothing else.

As a working granny, I try to juggle both. But sometimes you get to a point where you just have to focus on one and not the other.

And that’s how, during this momentous week, I came to find myself in Spain.

I almost didn’t go. Regular readers will know that my youngest grandchild, George, has had a strange rash on one side of his face.

Goodness knows how many doctors have looked at it. On the advice of 111, my daughter and son-in-law have had to take him into A&E at least three times. And it’s still not better after four weeks.

“You must go,” said my daughter when I start to wobble, passport in hand. “I’ll let you know if something happens.”

So I did.

The very next morning, I texted. This is usually easier because they’re often too busy with the children to pick up the phone.

No reply. So I rang.

I could hear noises in the background. “We’re in A&E,” said my daughter. “The rash has made George’s right eye swell up. It’s almost closed. I was going to ring you after we’ve been seen but I don’t know when that will be yet.”

Already, I was mentally working out how I could get back. Flights only run twice a week from our local airport.

“Let’s just see what the doctor says,” my daughter told me. Why is it that my grown-up children can seem so much more rational than I feel?

I was on tenterhooks all morning. Then she texted. “The doctors have given him oral antibiotics. If that doesn’t work, they’re going to put him on a drip.”

Right. That was it. I was definitely coming back. If necessary, I would get a flight to London and then make the four hour journey home by train.

“Just hang on until the next day,” insisted my daughter.

So I threw myself into my writing – which was why I was here anyway – and the next morning George’s right eye started to open.

It looked like the antibiotics were working. The day after that, his rash slowly began to fade. He won’t need to go on a drip. Phew!

Then the phone rang. It was my dad. I hadn’t told him I was in Spain because he panics every time I go out of the front door at home. I didn’t want him to get even more anxious. But it seems that as every day goes past, he becomes more worried about everything in general.

My sister and I are still sorting out a care home. These things take much longer than we realised.

Some require a hefty down payment amounting to two or even three years in advance. My father is aghast that this means selling his bungalow. “Why do I have to pay anything?” he demands.

We tried to explain but although he is quite capable of making his views known on politics, he doesn’t get it.

And then, on the Thursday, my husband rang. I will never forget his first sentence. “The Queen is dead.”

No. She can’t be. I looked up from my laptop in a daze. Outside I could hear people laughing as they came in from the pool. I heard someone chattering in Spanish.

In my head, I can remember my mother – who died back in the 80s – telling me how much she admired the Queen. “We were the same age when she ascended to the throne,” my mother would tell me. Back then, it didn’t feel that significant to me. But now it does.

I rang my dad who turned 99 last week. “Terrible, isn’t it?” he said. “I remember working in London as an apprentice after the war when we heard that the old King had died.”

I was worried that the Queen’s death might make my father even more aware of his own mortality. But in fact it gave us something to talk about apart from care homes. “She did a good job, didn’t she?” he said.

Then I rang my children. Isn’t it strange how national events can make you want to be with family and not far away? We chatted about the two letters that Rose wrote to the Queen – and received a reply each time, via a lady in waiting.

I thought of how our queen was not just a working mother but a working grandmother and a working great-grandmother.

I watched, from Spain, the programmes about the Queen and some footage of her as she played with her grandchildren.

I wondered how the younger members of the royal family will feel. When my mother died, my eldest son was barely 3. He listened when I told him that Granny had gone to heaven. Then he looked up at the clouds. “Will she still be able to have cornflakes up there?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I said.

But one thing is certain.

Death cannot take away the memories. Our Queen was one of the most famous people in the world. She still is – and will continue to be so in history books.

But she was also a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. Family rules forever. Whether you’re royal or not.

Ask Agony Gran

“I know this might sound silly but my only grandson is off to university soon and I don’t know how I’m going to manage without him. He and his parents live near me and I’ve been used to seeing him every day since he was born. I’m worried he’s going to forget me. In fact, I can’t help bursting into tears even though I’m trying to put on a bright face.” Linda

Jane says:

“It doesn’t sound silly at all. People often talk about empty nest syndrome but when you’re close to your grandchildren, you can feel that same sense of loss when they move on to do other things. Allow yourself the space for being upset. Maybe talk about it with his parents. But if it was me, I would try not to show your grandson how you feel. He may well be feeling apprehensive about this big change as well.

“There are also lots of practical things you can do that might make you feel better. How about writing to him regularly? A letter is something precious nowadays when so many people ring or text or do any of the other amazing things that I don’t understand. Perhaps you could make a cake for him to take with him to university. One of my granny friends did this and her granddaughter shared it with other students in her hall. It helped her to make friends!

“Also take a good look at your own life. Is there something different you could do that might shake up the routine a bit. Lots of colleges are offering courses for mature students. There’s also the wonderful Open University. Perhaps you might fancy a bit of studying yourself – or take up something you’ve always thought of but never got round to such as painting or pottery or learning a new language.

“Time always seems to go faster when you have something planned. Before you know it, your grandson will be back for Christmas. That’s the thing about relationships. They are always evolving. It seems daunting when changes first start to happen. But then we get used to it. Good luck.”

The funny things this say…

Thanks to Susan for sending this in. It really made us giggle!

“My grandson and I always chat on Facebook on Sundays. Last week, I could see he was really excited.”

“Look granny,” he said holding up a pair of shoes. “I’ve got some new ones for school. I’m a size 12.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said.

“What size are you?” he asked.

“Size 6,” I replied.

“Then I’m bigger than you,” he said grinning.

“I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his size 12 was a child’s size!”

Newsflash!

Should you give up your seat on a plane and move somewhere else so a family can sit together? A national newspaper recently carried a story about a passenger who apparently refused to do this.

What would you do? Have you ever asked anyone to move so your family can sit together? We’d love to hear your views.

You tell us…

Thanks to Joe who sent this in after our report last week about the number of children who live with one parent.

‘My grandson lives with his mum but sees his dad – my son – in the holidays. It was difficult at first but now he’s a teenager, we’re used to it. We even got together to celebrate his 15th birthday and I had a nice chat with my former daughter-in-law. I’m not sure this would have happened if the virus hadn’t happened. But I think it’s helped us to appreciate family more.”

Children’s Book of the Week

Each week I’ll recommend a great book that I’ve enjoyed reading with my grandchildren. This week it’s The Boy Who Dreamed Dragons by Caryl Lewis, illustrated by Carmen Saldana (Puffin £12.99, age 3-7).

It’s a lovely story about a little boy who can’t wait to go to bed because he dreams of dragons at night. One of the things I particularly liked was that it appealed to both my grandchildren (aged four and six).

We’d love to know about funny things which your grandchildren have said. We’d also like to hear about the books your children and grandchildren have enjoyed. If you’d like to get in touch with us, please email moderngran@dctmedia.co.uk.

Jane’s New Book

Jane Corry is an author and journalist. Her latest novel is called WE ALL HAVE OUR SECRETS and is published by Penguin £7.99. When Emily leaves her London job to live with her elderly dad in Cornwall, a stranger opens the front door. From supermarkets, bookshops and online.