Things you remember about your nanna's house (i.e. gran or nan)

Great thread. A few memories to add –

Lace type head rest covers on the armchairs, so soak up grandad’s brylcream.
The aforementioned flame effect electric fire.
Pots of geraniums everywhere (my wife is carrying on this tradition nicely)
Nanna’s cupboard full of tablets. A pharmacy springs to mind.
Grandad’s shed, and all the boxes of things to be kept, ‘just in case’. (I seem to be carrying on this tradition)
Reader’s Digest books.
Puzzle magazines.
Teasmaid.
Yellow bath.
The Daily Express. Never met anyone since who reads it.
Tinned carrots with everything.
A casserole dish of some sort ‘apparently’ made out of the same material as the Apollo moon rocket. Aged 6 I was fascinated by this fact. 34 years later I’ve no idea what this actually was.

Falling down the stairs and breaking my arm
Playing in the garden
My Great Uncle dying 🙁
Battenburg
marshmallows
A big, black cat
Reading all my dad’s old books from the 1930s.
Lots of furniture, not much room
the smell of gas (I’d never seen a gas oven anywhere else)
A cupboard full of candles, cement, old bars of soap and stuff (you never know when there might be another war!)
Relatives everywhere…all the time….uncles, aunts, cousins
Did I mention, lots of cake?

Songs of praise
tinned fruit and evap
My Dad and Gandad treating themselves to a can of Tartan bitter EACH!
Getting a treat from super gran at the end of our visit. Super Gran was my great gran who lived with my grandparents she was 103 when she died.
Being able to name the basset hound pups.
conversations that went over my head.
Happy days.

Dens made out of the clothes horse and sheets. It kept us occupied for hours and hours.

1. Water Buffalo

2. Being washed under a hand pump

I was 3 and those are my only memories of my Grandparents houses I returned 30 years later, but only one of the houses where there and none of the grandparents. 😥

I’m always a bit jealous of people having access to their Grandmas, I never really knew either of mine and I feel I missed out.

Lucky buggers the lot of you.

lots, my goodness this really has taken me back in time, thanks

two full size showmans caravans in the garden – we lived there when we stayed, 4 massive sheds, the diesel engine and saw bench and flapping canvas strop (don’t go near it),chicken run, apple trees – lots of blossoms, outside loo, tin bath in the living room, the smell of just killed/plucked chicken being singed with meths in the sink on the back of a hand shovel to get the hairs off, vegetable plot, clumps of pampas grass, home made dandelion and burdock etc in the loft, running through fields, some clumps of grass were cow poo, some were discarded motorbike engines, going down the back path through the field in the early morning sun to get milk from the farm next door, through the rushes, mist, dew and spiders webs, walking down to John Mackenzies boathouse, dragging the boat up the shingle (I had my own boat at 10), fishing, rowing, clam dragging, lobsters, crabs, bleeding jellyfish on the line stinging your hands, flouder spearing, she was a real woods woman, could use a hand scythe in her 80s, used to take me skinny dipping, there was a magic bit of river, sloping sandstone covered in green weed followed by a deep pool, so, so much more,

I’m always a bit jealous of people having access to their Grandmas, I never really knew either of mine and I feel I missed out.

Yeah both my mum and dad are dead so my little girls will never remember them (wife pregnant when dad died, mum died two weeks after their 2nd birthday). If I could bring them back for 5 minutes so my girls could know them properly (ie, at an age my girls would be able to remember them) I would give so much.

The window ledge had tomato plants on and it was on the 12th floor.

I always took the rubbish out because you could open a shoot and let it fly down a shaft and listen to it hitting stuff all the way down.

They only ever seemed to have Fig Rolls in the biscuit tin and they always felt damp.

The fig rolls or your grandparents?

The biscuit tin on the back window (the type that had that insert in the lid that stopped them going soft).

Grapes in the fruit bowl.

the smell of grandads fags and brylcreme.

Like many of the rest of us I miss them like mad , they were the only stable thing from a turbulent childhood (my safe place to go when mum and dad argued).My grandma met my oldest son but grandad was gone before he arrived.

I now live in their house so am reminded of them all the time 😀 , lots of happy memories.

Can’t write more cos I’m filling up.

This thread has just made me Google Map my ‘better’ nan’s house (not been back since she died when I was 14 – 30 years ago). It is completely and utterly different to how I remember it – I remember it being a palace at the time but it is just a boring brick-built end terrace.

🙁

What a great thread, makes you think about all the little things.

Every day at Go-cart grandma’s seemed to be baking day.
Go-cart grandma’s was where i kept my go-cart, which was actually my dads old 1 from back in the day.
Watching all the birds in the birdbath
Grandads never ending supply of wine gums, which could explain my habit.
Getting asked how many Yorkshire puddings i wanted and ALWAYS only got 2
I could never get the pattern off the bottom of the bowl my ice cream came in , even though they said it would

Very happy memories, thanks for that

Quite sad for me – lots of memories of things like the cabinet full of little teaspoons, the 3d picture with the cord you pulled to make a tune, the games cupboard with Scrabble, dominoes etc…
My auntie, who lived in the house all her life died last year and my brothers and I had to clear the house. So hard to throw out some of that stuff 🙁

The outside toilet

The coal bunker in the cellar filled via a ground level front window

Rag bone

Corned beef Hash with pastry lid

Ginger cake and Custard

Brass Brass and more Brass

Derek and Clive live.

Happy times

Brill thread 🙂

Shiny toilet sheets and the thundering toilet.
That gas fire with the spiky ceramic panels that glowed.
Homemade Apple Pie and TipTop.
Glass bottled lemonade/barley water delivered by the milkman.
The freestanding spin dryer.
Bird tables.
The flat garden hose that used to kink constantly during water fights.
Getting threatened to be put on the train home by my Dad when not perfectly behaved…nightmares from that as I was only 7 or 8.
The heavy sheets/blankets on the bed and the funny double length pillow.
National Geographic Magazines.

I remember everything about it as I grew up there.

Her cooking. My mum and dad used to own a pub that served food and gran often helped out making the sweets. The thing was that she never measured any of the ingredients out but they always tasted amazing.

🙂

tinned fruit
kitkats
coal scuttle
ceramic hot water bottle

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_59dMLhVAE

My Grandma may have been a bit older than the majority mentioned here – a terraced house, no garden, just a small back yard with only an outside loo. She had a wireless radio, which was a huge novelty when we kids were very young, no telly then! The best thing was the piano in the front room, we must have made a right racket on that.

cool thread, some uncannily similar memories to others:

Teasmaid.
The Daily Express. Never met anyone since who reads it.

yep- same here.
also,

– rubbber toucan guinness toy thing on bathroom windowsill
– loads of rotting plums littering the garden along with associated wasps
– mental looking hoover that looked like it was made of cast iron (or was that my aunties?)

Not in any particular order as I have a lovely feeling of nostalgia.

Smell of coal fire.
Antiques Roadshow followed by songs of praise.
Cooking toast on extra long fork on coal fire.
Vanilla ice cream wrapped in sponge (shit, what’s it called again??)
Smell of old books (my Granda was an engineer for a local ship building firm. I have a lot of his books since he died. They still smell the same).
Frank Sinatra songs.
Smell of oil/ metal work.
Being ‘first foot’ at new year.
‘Beanie’ and chips.
Story of the new bargain antique bought at a coffee morning.

Great thread!

My overiding memory is of cups of tea. Milky, in china cups and made with loose leaves. I hated the sediment in the bottom of the cup.

This thread has made me realise how few memories of my Paternal grandmother I actually have, although I do remember her as being very warm and dressed in the classic ‘fishing village widow’ garb 🙁

Used to visit her in Banff with my Dad twice a year and do the rounds, visiting his 4 Sisters where cups of tea and Battenburg cake were compulsory in EVERY house until we eventually got to my Gran’s around 1pm, where the tinned ham was opened and large sandwiches were served, followed by sponge cake served on a proper cake stand. Fire was always on, and amazingly I never remember it raining. I used to look in awe at the model of my Grandad’s boat (he was a trawler Captain who died before I was born) and the various paintings and ships in bottles from his days at sea. The outside loo sticks in the memory as it was visited frequently due to the copious tea intake.

I have no idea what my Gran and Dad chatted about but usually one or more Sisters would arrive and the house was filled with smoke. I went out with various Cousins to the harbour or rocks by the sea and loved it. It always ended with a half crown being pressed into my hand and a peck on the cheek from my Gran.

As an aside, the house was bought in the ’50’s by my Grandad for the outrageous sum of £150 (people thought he was mad) and was sold when my Gran died in 1977. By a strange quirk of fate, one of my Aunts bought it back around 30 years later for £115,000 but I never returned. No idea if one of her daughters lives there now or if it’s been sold again.

The smell of fresh bread and pastries cooking.

Ancient Grandfather Clock that chimed the hours and on the half-hour-always seemed such a haunting sound.

What seemed like a very long, steep, dark stairwell that led up to the bedroom I stayed in on the second floor (in reality it was probably 12 steps long at most).

Floorboards that always creaked.

Huddd-ddd-du-dus (funny manual ‘vacuum’ cleaners that make a Huddd-ddd-du-du noise when you move them across the carpet).

That will be a ewbank?
ewbank

My memories are Toby jugs on the shelf that ran round the room above the picture rail.

Pantries

Tinned peaches and carnation milk.

Bonanza and east enters on a Sunday afternoon after a tasty Sunday dinner

Good times

Excellent thread !

The front room was only ever used on special occasions – Daily life was centred around the kitchen.

Always some pastry and flour being put together on a formica topped table.
Outdoor toilet with the parafin heater kept on low in winter to stop freezing.
Rocking chair that I regularly trapped my fingers in.
Bottle of whisky always in the cupboard for ‘medicinal reasons’ – Except it seemed to get regularly replaced.
Strange sense of snobbery – even though in real terms she had nothing.
Paraffin heater in the kitchen where you had to quickly invert the new supply to the ‘darlek’ lookalike heater.
Hovis bread which you had to cut.
Mangle for wringing out washing – Proper finger magnet.
Gas powered fridge.
Valve powered TV that took a lifetime to power up…..& the dot that took forever to go away when TV switched off.
Ticking clock.
Radio Gram which seemed to only play Val Doonican.
Bags of unopened sugar & tea.
Building dens in the backyard with blankets over the flagstone fencing between the neighbours houses.
Feet soaking in a washing up bowl.
Proper butter.
Knitted tea cosy’s
Lots of home made knitted jumpers & balaclava hats.
Singer ‘treddle’ powered sewing machine. ( both feet on a platform)
Mint imperials.
Washing drying rack on a pulley in front of the kitchen fire.
Electric Blanket on an old fashioned cast iron framed bed with proper blankets.
Ice on the inside of the windows in winter.
Home made lemonade & home made cake – Old people still make the very best cake.
Stories of her childhood were especially fascinating- Growing up as an illegitimate child at the turn of the 1900’s & Working half a day each day from the age of 12 in a weaving factory.
Her Honeymoon in Blackpool having to share a bed with another couple & the cellar house.
Lace ‘things’ over armrests in the front room.
“Freindship” books.
Tin bath – Some of my earlies memories are being in a tin bath in front of the fire in the kitchen.
Biscuit / cake tins with Scottish / Royal themes on them.
Rag Bone merchant on horse & carts coming down the alley at the back & giving you a balloon.
Always some form of cooking on the go.

Great thread !!!
Chris

Hmmm. Just been discussing this thread with Mrs. S and she kinda ruined it. Her principal memory of her dads Bmum involved a different black man being there when she visited! Not sure what that’s about. “hiya love this is grandad Winston / Leroy” Gulp.

Mrs.S has insisted I mention her real grandparents. Hilda and Mick who were fantastic and lovely. I met them – and they were RIP Hilda and Mickey Finn.

They died before I was born but my Great Grandparents’ tiny house in a tiny village in the pyrenees is still in our family as a ‘holiday home’ and pretty similar to how it was when they died in the 70’s.

It’s like staying in ’50’s peasant house’ and uterly awesome in a really crap draughty way:
-no telly
-twin tub washing machine which unbelievably only packed up a few years ago.
-fireplaces for heating
-toilet at bottom of garden, which you have to tip a huge metal jug of water down to flush it
-‘La truite qui chant’ picture above the fireplace, like a Billy Bigmouth Bass novelty singing fish, except it’s 50 years old and it doesn’t sing.
-Several packs of really worn cards.
-utterly non-matching dining table and chairs, no such thing as a sofa or armchair. Similarly non matching plates, cutlery, glasses and tea towels made from old linen sheets.
-MASSIVE front door key (weighs about half a pound!) and turns the wrong way and twice round as per France.
-Lino flooring upstairs with 1950’s newspapers as underlay.
-Rusty rod-braked spring saddle singlespeed bike in attic: must weigh about 50lbs!
-’stereoscope’ viewer and souvenir pics from their one and only trip to Paris.

Load of locks and shutters and still getting burgled.. (must have been the challenge)
Rice pudding with skin sitting on the worktop
Blankets instead of duvets
A distinct lack of bath water (I was 5) you had to conserve it in the war don’t you know!
Bottles of Cinzano Bianco hidden everywhere
A can of tango 5 years out of date with bits in it

Front room for special occasions only.

+1 for this. I can’t remember the room ever being used, kept “for best” apparently.
Lots of lace embroidery and net curtains.
The cold. No central heating.
The small TV that came in a big cabinet that had slidey doors you could open and shut.
Potatoes out of tins. Actually pretty much everything was out of a tin.
Toilets where the cistern was high up on the wall with a big chain.
Neighbours who could be spoken to over the fence but never invited in to each others houses.

Trying to see what it was she’d seen in the T leaves that so upset her that she dropped the cup..

Grandad died the following day.

long rubber things on the kitchen taps that let you squirt the water

porcelin potty under the bed (that had electric blankets on)

fresh bread rising in the airing cupboard

thick cigarette smoke

Nice thread OP

Happy memories of my roots in Liverpool and a strong sense of family and community.
Larder. The pickled onions in particular.
Vegetable garden, fresh peas and tomatoes.
Andy Cap (looked just like my Pop)
My pops overshoes he wore in the winter
Senior service ciggies.
Proper gravy.
Anderson shelter in the back garden.
Hammerite paint.
Ice cream sodas.
Back sratchers
Mints
Chocolate brazils
Brylcream, braces and trilby hats.
Sausage dogs.
Old Aunts that sat in the corner being miserable.
Immaculate front gardens.
Daily Mirror.
Laughter.
Love.

Thank you again OP unlocking some memories. I hope my kids look back on those days with their Grandparents with fondness.

Camp coffee. ‘nimble’ bread. A plastic donkey that you stored cigarettes in (I seem to remember that you lifted its tail and it kind of shat the cigs out – quality). Lots of unintelligable relatives from Ireland, all who seemed to wear black suits that had gone shiny at the knees, elbows and arse. A painting of John and Bobby Kennedy with Jesus sitting between them.

Tea, marble cake and rock buns 🙂
Pretending that I was Batman and the bottom of the Garden was my bat cave 😆

At my other Grandparents’ house, the bloody garden which I’m constantly going round to help out with – Grandad loves his crazy paving and stuff! Oh and fixing their computer/other electrical goods 🙂

i loved the heavy scouse accents of the local kids we played with,
they thought my brother and i talked posh!! lol
cobbled streets with hardly any traffic
rag and bone man with his horse and cart
pub on every corner with that distinctive pub smell
woodbine cigarettes
tenement blocks
large cast iron kitchen range with an oven either side of the open coal fire..
roast dinners
rubarb pie
cast iron bath and the taps would only trickle through lack of water pressure
hard green soap
freezing cold cotton sheets and heavy blankets
a cuddle off my nan

Didn’t really see much of my Grans (1x dead and 1x not really interested in grand kids) but my grandad

*Stank of coaltar soap
*Was always on the ‘throne’ when we arrived and would stay until the paper was finished, some time 2 hours
*Immaculately dressed even at half eight in the morning
*always shook my hand, never hugged
*his second wife seemed to be locked in the kitchen constantly bring out food
*the smell of cigars
*not being allowed to go to the pub with him (thinlk he had another women there)
*being made to watch horse racing
*generally offensive/un pc words rolling from his mouth

-fags
-racism

and that.

I’m saving this thread to read properly when i have time.

My Nan and Grandad had a pub so i remember:
kids swings in the beer garden,
the fattest labrador ever (Sherry, overfed and then topped up by the regulars with Golden Wonder crisps)
A limitless supply of crisps and pop when Grandad wasn’t looking, and then being shouted at when he found out (but it was all for show really)
Brassy over made up women on a saturday night all kissing me before I went to bed
After they’d retired, and later Grandad died, of lung cancer (inevitable after being a smoker in a smoky pub for 30 years I guess) we moved Nan to near us. Then I remember visits and the smell of Coffee and Walnut sponge, and the best steak and kidney pies ever. And, the piece de resistance; refusing to have a microwave so having to have the dinner she’d ‘put down’ for you heated up in the oven, so you had the gooey burnt gravy to scrape off the side of the tin!