On November 6th our first grandchild was born in Cambridge. My wife is now Gran and I am Grandad. In my far off childhood my mother’s mother was Gran and my father’s father was Grandad. So these new titles are fine.
My Grandad was a quiet and authoritative figure to me. He used to sit in the kitchen saying very little. He had a full head of hair and a white moustache, which I think was tinged yellow from smoking. The sad fact is I never felt close to him or that he was much interested in me.
Perhaps it’s the way families work, but my mother’s parents seemed to be more loving. My Grampie was a shorter, smiling man who had words to build up. I hope my granddaughter remembers me as the smiling, talking one — not that her other grandfather is anything like my own was.
The journey from the South Coast to Cambridge will become more familiar in coming years. It’s mainly motorway: A27, A23/M23, M25, M11 with the glorious Dartford Tunnel going north under the Thames and the high-flying bridge coming south.
Sending a message to my wife and sons opens up the identity question. Should I be Tony, Dad or Grandad? I enjoy all three, so had better get used to the multiple identity.
24 November, 2011