It’s pretty cold here in Scotland at the moment. As one lot of snow almost clears we get another dumping. Nothing as bad as a couple of years ago when we didn’t see the grass for a month, but I am getting fed up with it none the less.
Our old farmhouse sits on top of a hill and despite the oil central heating turned up and the wood burning stove blazing, this afternoon I was still feeling the chill. So to warm myself up I leant against one of the living room radiators.
It was while I was stood there with kids TV blaring and toys strewn around the room I had a flashback to thirty-five years or so earlier, when as a little girl my sisters and I would spend days at my Nan and Granddad’s house while my Mum went to work. The image was so vivid of Nan standing with her back to the radiator, her hands tucked behind her to get the warmth.
As a child, racing around the living room I never understood how she felt the cold so much.
Now I do.
I am lucky that Nan and Granddad, both in their nineties, are still with us and we plan to travel down to the south of England this summer to see them.
Now a days Nan tends to sit in her chair wrapped in a blanket.
Hmmm, I have one of those too.