Joan

On this day in 1910, a baby girl was born who would grow up to have a baby girl of her own. There is a huge amount of material to write about in that alone - how she left her home in Gloucester at sixteen to work in the tea rooms of Bristol railway station, how she met a shy and handsome railway guard and fell in love, how her premature baby (described as looking like a skinned rabbit) had to fight for its tiny life.

That skinned rabbit grew up to be my mum.

The wonderful lady, known to everybody as Joan, was my nan.

Nan died in 2008 at the age of 98. She was a tiny little woman but she left a very big hole in our family. I miss the endless stories that she would tell about her life - stories that would loop  around and start again. I miss her big heart and the huge amount of love she had for each and every one of her great grandchildren.

Just before she died, I took my newborn baby daughter to meet her.  It was hard to see the once vibrant lady reduced to a little more than a bag of bones but her eyes sparkled when she gazed at the latest addition to the family. Although the contrast between one so close to death and one so new to life is very stark, I love the photographs that were taken of them together and I share them here in honour of her birthday.

My nan's last words before she let go of life, spoken to her son, were "Put me on the stairlift, John". We like to think that she had seen her Stairway to Heaven, her handsome husband (who had died some 30 years before) would have been waiting for her at the top and she wanted the quickest way up.

Happy Birthday, Nan.