I was actually really close to my Granddad who has unfortunately passed now. In our family photos there are quite a few of us together when I was a little girl like two peas in a pod. I remember that he always encouraged me in whatever I put my hand to. As an artistic child who loved to draw I could guarantee that every Christmas that I would receive a fresh Crayola selection box full of new felt tips, coloured pencils and oil pastels from my Grandparents.
I even have found memories of sitting in my Grandparents bungalow drawing on a huge roll of paper that my Granddad had gotten from somewhere especially for me to use, I can still recall trying to carefully rip off pieces to draw on. When he reached retirement he even hand-built me a gypsy-style caravan for me to play in in my back garden – he was an awesome man.
It’s these dream-memories that sometimes haunt us in life, in the past I have seen them as my subconscious mocking me but now I think that it is a sign of getting older. I don’t feel like I’m heading towards twenty-five, in fact I still feel like I’m twenty at a push – but my memories prove me otherwise. When I see old friends we reminisce over coffee or cocktails a lot more than we used to and when I see my friend’s children I comment on how they’ve grown – some of them are even in school.