Nan

I had nothing specific in mind to write about this week.  For some reason Nan (Mum's grandmother) has been on my mind, so I thought I could introduce you to her.  

Here's a photo of Nan and my Mum at Granny's house.  It's from the early 70's, but Nan really didn't change much.  Check out my Mum!  No wonder she won so many Belle of the Ball sashes!  Insert wolf whistle

As the first great grandchild, and the only one in Normanton for almost 8 years I pretty much had everyone's attention.  Nan used to say that ,"You can't spoil a good kid," but I'm pretty sure they were all pushing the boundaries there.  The sun shone out of me!

Growing up I spent time at my house, my grandparents' house and my great grandparents' house.  Nan and Pop even let me keep the kittens I found in the shed.  We weren't a cat family (I'm definitely not a cat person now) and I have no idea how that got past the Board of Directors, but I wanted the kittens, so they said I could have them at their house.  What I remember most is that they didn't house train well... perhaps that's why I'm not a cat person... 

I had "stuff" in all three locations and a ring around inquiry regarding the menu for the evening meal would often determine where I would dine that night.

I learnt to use the phone pretty early.  In those days we had an Exchange, and black Bakelite phones with heavy handsets and a handle that you wound to call the exchange.  (Granny's phone is in the photo, on the bench just over Nan's right shoulder.)  In a small town when you pick up the phone and say, "I want to talk to Granny," even when you're three, the exchange operator knows exactly who you are and which number to connect you with. Granny's house often offered "Stewed Chicken" or "Chow Mein", but Nan's house had a wider variety that included some form of sweets.  I have lovely memories of cooking with Nan.  Using egg beaters (which, incidentally I have only ever seen at kindergartens since, and they were often used to fluff up Lux Flakes slime, rather than beat eggs) and baking cakes, biscuits and baked custard in her wood stove. Vanilla essence reminds me of those times.  Nan wore aprons.  I remember the ones with hand towels sewn onto the band - great idea that - if there's one thing I need in the kitchen it's a hand towel in easy reach (that doesn't slide off my shoulder).  Nan also wore petticoats.  In Normanton.  In summer.  In a corrugated iron house with a wood stove.  Her body temperature must have been constantly above 37 degrees.

Nan lived with us when I was a kid, after Pop passed away.  I had her attention when I was little, and my brother had it while she was grieving.  She always said that he kept her going.  They had a very special bond.

To half the town she was "Nan" because I think she preferred that to "Mrs Whyte", and to the other half she was "Aunty Lulla" because she was in some way, shape or form related to them.  As a child her sister couldn't say "Eleanor", and it came out as "Lulla", which obviously stuck because that seemed to be her name for many, many years.

I've been missing her this week.  It's been almost 19 years since she passed.  Remembering her mannerisms and traits, amusing sayings and mispronunciations makes me wistful.  

She had been in hospital for three days before the nurses cottoned on to the fact that she couldn't actually see.  It was remarkable how she adapted.  I don't know when her sight eventually failed, but she had worn glasses for all of my life.  Her usual response when asked was, "My eyes are settled.  I had Sandy Blight when I was sixteen," and that was apparently the end of the conversation.

I ended up with her old sewing machine when the arthritis got so bad that she couldn't do much with her hands anymore.  I think of her whenever I sew (which, unfortunately, is not all that often).  I don't think I'll ever associate the scent of wintergreen with anything other than Nan's liniment.  When she lived with Mum's aunt in Mount Isa her constant companion was an old fluffy dog who was similarly afflicted.  I'll never forget the sight of them hobbling down the hallway together, bonded by their arthritis and easily keeping pace with one another.  She would often begin a conversation with me thus, "Eve, ah!, Di, ah!, Cherie..."  (This is particularly amusing to me, since my parents do a similar thing when talking to my son... "Dean, ah!, Cody...")  She used to call my Dad "Way-en" (his name is Wayne) and he always made her laugh.  Nan liked to keep up with the cricket, but was never sure whether it was a one day match, or a test, "Do they play again tomorrow, Way-en?"  All the good mangoes grew on the tree next to the well at her place, and every time it rained she would proclaim that the tanks would all be full now.  She was pleased that I was driving Pop's old Premier ("it's a good, strong, car"), and Dad always took "good, clear photos", although we're not sure how she knew because she wouldn't let on what she could actually see.

Nan didn't often talk about herself, even when prompted, so there's a lot that I don't really know about her life.  That makes me a bit sad, but I'm forever grateful that I knew her and spent the time with her that I did.  She was a truly special lady.

Last week's 52Frames topic was "Abstract", and I photographed an acrylic pour.  That might be why I'm now keen to paint and create this weekend.  I don't really know what I want to do, I just want to paint.  That won't help me with this week's topic though.

This week's theme is "Inspired by a Photographer", and I really wanted to use Allan Arbus as my inspiration.  I didn't know he was a photographer until I started researching - I just knew him as Dr Sidney Freedman from M*A*S*H.  He was mainly a fashion photographer for Vogue, Glamour and Harper's Bazaar.  Lacking the kind of fashion items his models wore, and indeed an actual model, I had to find inspiration elsewhere.  Having no baby to dress in plant material, or as some kind of cute animal I had to discard the Anne Geddes inspiration.  Botanical photography is where it's at for me this week.  The challenge will be getting the light right, and accessing interesting flowers (the ones I want are out of season).  Wish me luck. 

It's been quite a party, ain't it

Purple Fairy