Every child should have a Nan.
My Nan is in heaven now.
She got very old.
One day she said, ‘Mark, I want to be an angel now.’
I said, ‘Yes, I understand.’
A few days later my Father telephoned me.
He said, ‘Mark, your Nan has passed away.’
I said, ‘Thank you for telling me.’ And I put the phone down.
My Nan she visits me in dreams.
So I can still talk to her and see her face.
I have some nice memories of my Nan.
Sometimes my Nan would come to stay at our house on a Saturday night.
On Sunday morning I would get into her bed and snuggle down next to her. She always made me feel cosy and warm and safe. She would share her tea with me. She would pour a little of her tea into the saucer and we would drink tea together.
I would say, ‘Nan, tell me stories about the war.’ And she would do so.
When I was very young I lived with my Nan for a while when my parents were divorced. My Nan would love to play the piano. My Nan would play and we would both sing.
’Silvery moonlight gleaming,
Carries my fancy dreaming,
Dreaming of you, only of you,
Love of my life once more.’
On a Tuesday afternoon, the fish man would come to our street. My Nan and I would walk down the long road to where the fish man parked his van. We would join the queue of people already there. When it was our turn my Nan would look at all the different kinds of fish in the back of the van. Then she would say, ‘Two pieces of cod please.’ My Nan would pay the man and then we would go home and have our fish for our tea.
In the evening my Nan would like to watch the television. Her favourite programme was ‘The Black and White Minstrel Show.’ I would snuggle up on her large lap and listen to her humming along with the songs.
My Nan was fascinated by the orchestra and the conductor. She would listen to the beautiful music and talk about the conductor. She liked the way he used his baton to control the mood and tempo of the music. She liked the soft gestures he made and then the big gestures and the way that the he used his eyes to bring everyone playing together.
Mark S. Masters - September 2015