When I was a little girl, my grandma had a house not far away from ours, upon which her flock of grandkids would descend on Saturdays while their parents went shopping, playing cricket or running errands. On Saturdays we watched Grandstand, put bets on the horses and ordered dinner from the chip shop (chips and two battered sausages, if you must know). There were people in and out all day, and someone was always falling over, getting hurt or hitting another cousin in the face. It was hectic, but it was fun.
However, the best days where when I was sick from school – or at least when I had convinced my mum that I was ill enough to stay home. “Staying home” actually involved going to Gromma’s house, where instead of the cascade of faces, there would just be me and Gromma. We would watch old videos of Dad’s Army, Rising Damp and Open All Hours before building a fort with the dining room chairs and a blanket. Gromma would also get in the fort, which was a lot of fun – but the best part would be when she made her classic coffee cake, as she seemed to do every single day (she did have a lot of kids and grandkids, after all).
