Things you remember about your own grandparents.

I remember my mother's mother was always tired! She didn't like her grandchildren much and we hardly ever spoke to her. Father's mother was better - a wonderful Yorkshire cook who lived in a tiny house. When I stayed with her, I shared her bed. Before she died I was always being called to her bedside to collect 'the ring' but it never materialised and in the end after her death no one found it, and we presumed the other side had already taken it.
However she was a canny old lady and as our fathers had died( she outlived all her children) we grandchildren inherited shares and some cash.

Later when I moved to Germany with my penniless German husband we never could have managed wihout her money. I have learned by it and intend to leave my gcs some cash.

MargaretX, your post reminded me of my maternal grandmother who was always tired as she ran a corner shop with my grandfather, was up at 5 for the newspapers and never went to bed before midnight. She never stopped talking and would fall asleep in a chair and then wake up and continue talking where she left off. Her letters were the same, with scrawls across them where she had fallen asleep while writing! We used to look forward to her parcel every week in the 1950's, tied up in brown paper with string, with butter often melting over the bacon and sugar. But safely stored on top were our comics and jamboree bags - such excitement!
My paternal grandfather had asthma like me and used an enormous black inhaler with a bulb at the bottom for atomising the liquid. When I was ill he would give me a small sneaky puff, much to my great relief. I was considered too young to cope with one of my own at that time, but only he understood how bad I felt sometimes. He had a wicked sense of humour and would play the most dreadful jokes on my Nan (who was eternally sweet and gullible) on April Fool's Day. But afterwards, I do remember him pulling her onto his lap and cuddling her!

Only maternal father whom I seem to remember better as I grow older

I've only just caught up with this thread and I've found it fascinating.

have an early memory of my paternal grandparents who lived in a large house, in a posh area of Manchester (well, it was then), that had a music room and a library. We lost touch when my parents separated and I re-met them briefly in my mid teens. My grandmother showed little interest in me and my grandfather was someone I felt very uncomfortable with - I never wanted to be in a room on my own with him.

My maternal grandfather was a lovely man and I adored him, but discovered many years after his death that he'd been a terrible gambler. My maternal grandmother had favourites and I wasn't one of them, so I was tolerated, but never really found favour with her - in spite of me trying very hard to get her to like me.

No need to apologise for the essay, Kitty - it's fascinating reading other people's stories. I'm loving it!
It's really making me think about how I want my DGS to remember me.......

Yes, I too have only just come to this thread and have spent a happy hour or so reading everyone's stories. They are all so different, and yet collectively they weave a rich fabric of life starting from the early part of last century. I feel as if I've been in a time machine!

My paternal grandfather died before I was born, so I never knew him but used to hear stories about him. He was a taster for a brewery and loved going to the races and placing bets at a time when this was illegal! If he had a good win he would go to the pub, his pockets stuffed with banknotes, and shout out "the drinks are on me". Needless to say, he had lots of friends at his local . Then he would roll home somehow, no better off than before the win! My paternal grandmother lived 2 doors from us when I was tiny, before we moved away when I was 6. Sadly her dementia meant she was a rather remote figure - she was the dear old lady dressed in black who sat in the corner and spoke quietly in a gentle southern Irish voice. Her unmarried son, my Uncle, lived with her and took care of her until she died when I was 9. I can still 'feel' the atmosphere of sitting in their house, with the not unpleasant smell of my Uncle's spaniel, and the bowl of mutli-coloured dog biscuits in the corner next to the water bowl. I always thought they looked so appealing, and longed to taste one. One day I managed it, when no-one was in the room. Oh what a disappointment that was!

My maternal grandfather was by all accounts a bit of a rogue, who left my grandmother when my mother was 2 days old. He turned up again, out of the blue, when Mum was 11 and her brother a couple of years older. He wanted to set up home with them, but my Uncle refused to leave his grandparents' house, so it was just Mum who went with my grandmother to live with this man who was a complete stranger to her. I think that arrangement lasted about 18 months and then he was off again, so Mum and Nana went back to her grandparents. My Nana was a wonderful lady, full of fun and she loved all of us grandchildren, always ready to play with us and indulge us. She worked full-time, but only lived a couple of streets away from us in London. She would come round every Friday after work, and helped Mum by bathing all 4 of us. The excitement for us was that she put two of us in the bath at a time, something Mum never did! One day as I was getting ready for school, my older sister noticed I was taking a small doll with me, one that Nana had given me, and she said 'don't take that with you, you might lose it'. She was 10 years old, and I was 6. I found out that evening that Nana had died and my sister knew I would want to treasure the last present from her.

I never knew my paternal grandfather as he died before I was born. He had a metal plate in his head from being injured in the First World War and my father used to tell me he had such terrible headaches he would bang his head against the wall as the pain was so bad and he would read most of the night to try and distract himself. He my father, and me were ,and are all voracious readers and my children and grandchildren have followed suit. My paternal grandmother died when I was 14 so I have memories of her but mostly as a rather cold figure who sat in her chair and expected to be waited on saying she as too old, looking back she was probably the same age I am now or even a bit younger and I still work full time and do everything for myself! My aunt and uncle lived with her and did everything that needed to be done, my auntie was a fabulous cook. I remember before we had a car my dad took me to see her on a two buses journey and it was freezing waiting at the bus stop.

My maternal grandparents lived quite close to us and I saw them all the time. Me and my brother were their only grandchildren, ( my father was the second youngest of nine and my maternal grandmother had lost interest in having more grandchildren by the time we were born!) we were quite spoilt by my Nana as children, when my brother was born seven years after me she bought me a scaled down proper silver cross pram which must have cost a fortune relatively speaking at the time. When we were older and my mother went back to work she came to our house every day at breakfast time and after school so there would be someone at home when we came home from school. She taught me to knit and would give me tea in which she would stir a spoonful of condensed milk, they never bought cows milk and their tea was dark brown it as so strong. Unlike my paternal grandmother who I never remember hugging or kissing me ever, they were both demonstrative and gave me constant affection. My grandfather worked all his life in the local steelworks and would take his sandwich for lunch with tea in a metal container which would be cold by the time he drank it, he called it his "bait". He read to me with me sitting on his lap and I adored him, he was proper henpecked by my Nan but he would do anything for her . He was very clever and won a scholarship to the local grammar school and my great grandmother only had to pay for his uniform but she was a First World War widow and couldn't afford to with 3 sons to bring up on her own so he never had the chance to go and I thought many times when I was older what a waste that was and how sad but he was a product of the times.

Like anyone who has embarked on genealogy how I wish I could go back now and have a few conversations with my grandparents.

The first grandparent to die in my life was maternal grandfather when I was 7, but I do have very nice memories of staying with those grandparents who lived by the coast in Sussex where we spent our earliest summer holidays and particularly of my grandfather walking along the sand with me hand in hand pointing out anything interesting like crabs and seaweed. My maternal grandmother died when I was 13 and I only realise as an adult just how stoic they were, they lost my uncle to bowel cancer when he was in his mid 30s and how hard that would be to bear but my grandmother particularly internalised it, which I don't think did her any good in the long run.

My paternal grandmother was a pious Catholic and a bit of a pain in the arse, she was forever travelling off to places like Lourdes and Fatima and droning on about religion, a quality she imbued into my father, unfortunately! By contrast, my paternal grandfather came from Catholic southern Europe, only paid lip service to it. I have fond memories of him cooking proper spaghetti, the long stuff that came out of blue packets at a time when spaghetti was something that came out a Heinz tin. My grandmother had spent a good few years in France, so they didn't eat typical English food, everything had lots of olive oil and garlic on it. My maternal grandmother on the other hand half Irish, deemed such outlandish items as food of the devil

I've been reading the thread since it was started, enjoying the contributions.
I like Bijou's idea of writing the memories down so that later generations can share them, and plan this will be my next project.
Growing up, I have more memories of my grandparents than my parents (apart from Mum in her later years.) We lived with Mum's parents for 3 years during WW2, and Granny was more like a mother to me.
Dad's parents lived round the corner, and I probably saw them every day.
They were very different - MGPs were a bit snobby, whereas PGPs were more leftwing (or Liberal in those days.)
The main influence they gave me was music - singsongs around the piano, and sitting on PGF's knee learning songs like Wait for the Wagon, and Scots Wahay! MGF entertained us with comic verses eg Albert and the Lion.
Both families had connections with the local amateur operatic society, in fact that's how Mum and Dad met. Dad played the piano.
There were many aunts uncles and cousins too, on both sides - all happy memories.

I found The Lion and Albert on youtube - still makes me laugh
www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKovQRzIQwI

My paternal grandparents met when they were both 'in service'- he was a groom, she was a kitchen maid. Later my grandad became a chauffeur and they moved from Angelsey to Leicestershire. He fought during the 1914-18 war and died in 1919. My grandma remarried to a much older man, but I didn't know him either. I remember visiting my grandma as a little girl; she lived in an almshouse and had a big toy cupboard for her grandchildren ( and a toilet at the bottom of the garden!)She was warm and cuddly.
My maternal grandad I only have a memory of him sick in a big brass bed, though my mum told me stories about going with him on his milk round on his horse and cart. I wasn't very fond of my maternal grandma as she was little and fierce! I would love to know why my maternal grandparents married in a registry office in 1918- but there is no one left to ask!