A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE

“Oh go on Gran, tell us again” they chorused, sounding like a lot of little monkeys chattering at the zoo.

“Oh you don’t want to hear my stories again. Go outside and play”.

“Pleeeese “they begged, their faces sticky and happy.

“Ok then, which story?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t be the one about the disastrous caravan trip. I had embellished and added to that story so many times I couldn’t remember what was true and what wasn’t!

“You pick Gran” they replied.

“Alright then, would you like to hear a different story, a new one?”

“Yeesss” they all yelled.

“All get comfy and I will tell you about my wedding day”.

“Did you look beautiful like a Princess? Was Grandad handsome in his suit? We’ve never seen your wedding photo Gran”.

“That’s enough questions” I told them as they wriggled and moved around trying to get a comfortable position on the beanbags that were spread on the carpet.

I loved telling stories. I loved reading stories too, but the younger of the grandchildren liked to hear ‘real life’ stories. I could adlib and change anything I wanted to, poetic licence, and they never knew.

“Now who remember where Gran was born?” I felt that I had to set the scene for the story, and not just launch in. I needed to string this story out as I had them here at my house for another couple of hours!

“Africa” the youngest one yelled out, much to the amusement of the others.

“No, not Africa Jill, Gran was born somewhere in England, but I just can’t remember the name of the place. I think it starts with a ‘K’ and it’s something like ‘Kite’ or ‘Kint’.

“I know. It’s ‘kit-kat’ bellowed the jokester of the children causing lots of laughter among them.

“You were nearly right Jill. It was Kent. And if you are all really good listeners and sit quietly while I’m telling the story, then I shall give you some kit-kat afterwards”.

“Yay” they called out, clapping their grubby hands, all except Lucy, the oldest and most sensible of them all.

I closed my eyes and travelled back in time to over forty years ago to when I was twenty five.

“Gran are you asleep? You’re supposed to be telling us a story, about when you got married”.

“No not asleep, I’m just thinking about the best way to tell my story. I’m ready now.”

And so I began:

“When I was a young girl I fell in love with a very handsome man, and before you ask Jill, I’ll tell you that he wasn’t a Prince. He was actually a teacher in the primary school in my village, which I went to when I was much younger”.

I knew that Grandad’s name would come up and I had been thinking about what I would say, so when Jill said “You mean Grandad?” I just answered ‘yes’, they would know the grown up version of the story when they were older.

“When I lived in the village” I continued “I lived in a very small house with my mum and dad and two brothers, and a dog called Sam and a cat called Irene”.

“Sam is my best friend at school (big sigh here) and also I have never heard of a cat called Irene!” called out little Jason, getting told to “Stop interrupting Jason or Gran won’t continue!”

“You can ask me all the questions you like when I’ve finished the story kids, ok?”

“Anyway, we lived in a small house just down the road from the village. I worked in the post office doing all sorts of interesting things like weighing parcels, selling stamps and envelopes and taking the money to the bank at the end of the day.

One summer’s day probably in July, a tall and handsome young man walked into the post office and asked if any of us knew where the Granger’s house was. The Granger’s were a family from the village who had a very big house, with plenty of rooms. They rented out some of their rooms to other people who had come to our village to have a holiday or work. Well this man had come to the village because he had a job at the school”.

“Did you fall in love with him Gran” asked Toby, laughing and giggling behind his hand.

“Toby, you don’t fall in love with someone that quickly - do you Gran?” said the oldest and wisest of the group!

“Not usually” I replied “but maybe some people do. Who knows?”

I waited for the giggles and shuffles to die down and then I continued.

“As it was difficult to explain where the Granger’s lived I offered to walk with the young man to the house, which I did. We got talking and he asked me if I would like to go to the pictures with him at the weekend. I remember it was a cowboy movie, very loud and long. I didn’t really like cowboy movies but I did like the young man so that’s why I went”.

I glanced down at the children and saw that Toby had fallen asleep, probably from boredom.

“So the young man and…….”

“Just say Grandad, we know that’s who you mean Gran”.

“Oh right of course, Grandad and I started to court each other, which is just an old fashioned way of saying ‘go out together’. We went to the pictures, on picnics, bike riding and even playing tennis at the old tennis courts in town.

It was a lot of fun and then, yes, we did fall in love! We had been seeing each other for about a year when Grandad (I felt bad telling a lie) asked me to marry him”.

“Gran, did Grandad get down on one knee and ask you after he took your hand in his?” asked Lucy, and I knew she would think it wonderful if I said ‘yes’ so I did.

Grandad had something hidden behind his back and when he told me to open my eyes, he had his hands outstretched, and was holding a box. I lifted the lid and inside was a beautiful diamond ring (Which wasn’t actually true – it was a cut glass ring - but looked like a diamond!) and of course I said ‘yes’ to getting married and we set about choosing a suitable date for the wedding.

The two boys were asleep so I had a captive audience of the girls and they were actually really interested!

We decided to get married one year from when we got engaged. My family were all really happy and they liked him a lot. He was funny and made everyone laugh. My grandad even took to him, he usually took ages to warm to people.

We were getting married in the little church down the road from our house, the same church that my mum and dad were married in. It was hundreds of years old and built from white limestone, but it had aged to a dull grey colour and moss was growing on the walls and roof above.  Inside it was cool and slightly damp and the stained glass windows, made up of all the colours of the rainbow brightened and lightened the inside and outside they glistened in the sunshine. On the back of each long wooden seat was a velvet cloth, sort of a purple colour. When I was young in winter time I would take the velvet cloth off the pew when no one was watching and wrap my hands up in it to warm them.

When you walked inside it smelt of old wood and beeswax polish – behind each wooden pew was a place for hymn books or sheets of paper. I always felt peaceful when I was in the church; as if all the noise and humdrum of life had been left outside after you entered

 through the solid oak doors.

The Vicar was called Mr Morris and he was a very tall man with a bald head. I think he had lots of morning teas and dinners made by the congregation because he had the roundest tummy I had ever seen. I liked him though. He was always laughing and even though some of his sermons scared me a little, he himself wasn’t scary. We asked him for permission to get married in the church and for him to marry us and he gave us both a huge smile, saying to us “Oh I’d be delighted to marry you”.

So we had the date set, the 7^th July, and then we had to get busy with the organising.

“Oooh the lovely wedding dress Gran, this is the best bit” said sweet Lucy getting excited at the thought of a flouncy, big white wedding dress!

My wedding dress was made by the only seamstress in the village and her name was Miss Wiggins. She made all the wedding dresses for everyone. She made her last wedding dress when she was nearly eighty years old and then she had to give up because she couldn’t see much anymore, even with her glasses on.

“Awww, that’s sad” said Jemma – I hadn’t even realised she was awake as she hadn’t said a word!

So I had a lovely long white wedding dress to wear with tiny flowers sewn onto the bodice. Around the waist, which was very tiny in those days I might add, I had a big silk bow which was tied at the back. The sleeves were sheer and lacy and there were some little flowers on them too. My veil was so long that my bridesmaid had to make sure my dad didn’t stand on it when he walked me down the aisle. It was attached to my hair by a comb, well two combs really, one either side. My hair was long and dark in those days so I wore it down and in ringlets. It was way past my shoulders.

My mother and my two brothers had decorated the church for the wedding. On the end of each pew was a white bow and on the entrance table as you walked into the church were roses that had been picked out of our garden. They were so big and fragrant that you could smell them before you even got in through the door. At the front of the church were some more flowers but these were white and delicate, the vase put to one side, so we could see the whole of the stained glass window, the picture of little children sitting around the feet of Jesus while he was telling them stories.

“Like you telling us this story Gran” said Jemma and I just smiled at her.

So the day of the wedding came. It turned out to be a sunny, warm and very bright July day. I had butterflies in my tummy when I woke up, from being a little bit nervous but so excited. I remember that my brother Tom put a big bow on our dog and our cat because it was a special day. Sam kept his on but as soon as Irene knew she had something around her neck she clawed at it constantly – we thought she might strangle herself so we took hers off.

I hadn’t seen Grandad the night before the wedding as it was supposed to be bad luck. I was tempted to ring the Granger’s telephone during the morning, but I didn’t. I knew Grandad would be getting ready. His family had travelled down from Scotland and were all staying at the house.

My one bridesmaid came over and we both got dressed. She was a hairdresser so knew how to put the clips in with the veil on so it wouldn’t come off, and she put a little bit of make up on me too. My dad looked at me when I was in my wedding dress and ready to go to the church and said I looked beautiful, just like my mum had looked on her wedding day! I looked in the mirror and couldn’t believe it was me – I was getting married! Now I was really excited!

I looked down at the girls to see if I should carry on with the story and as they all looked wide awake and interested I continued.

The church was just down the road so we didn’t need to drive really but my dad insisted saying that a wedding was so special and he couldn’t let his daughter ‘wander off down the road to the church’! We used his old white Vauxhall car which he had washed and polished until it gleamed in the sunshine like a brand new shiny penny. The inside of my dad’s car was always clean because that’s the way he liked to keep it. No-one was allowed to eat inside the car and he kept watching to see if you spilt anything when you took your cup of tea on a journey too!

I slid along the back seat across the leather upholstery and my bridesmaid made sure my long veil was inside the car before she banged the door shut. My mum sat in the front beside dad and we drove the short distance to the church where we all got out. I remember thinking how lovely the weather was, especially as it had rained just a few days beforehand. I could smell the roses even before we reached the door of the church, sweet and fragrant.

There wasn’t anyone outside the church so I presumed that by being fashionably late everyone was seated. Sally straightened my veil and checked me over and then as my dad offered me his arm we began to walk inside.

As we past the first row of pews and people turned to look at us, the organist, Mrs Walters cranked up the heavy dark wood organ and the tune of ‘Here comes the bride’ rose into the air, loud and melodic. By the time we reached the front of the church, not a long walk, everyone had turned around to smile at us, and of course see what I looked like!

Grandad looked so handsome waiting up the front with my brother as his best man. As I reached him, my dad let go of my arm and went and sat down with my mum and I stood next to Grandad. He took my hand and before the Vicar began to talk, whispered in my ear “You look beautiful”.

“Oh Grandma that was a lovely story about your wedding day” sighed Lucy. “I wish I could have been there but really that’s a silly thing to say I know. Did you keep your wedding dress?” she asked.

“I didn’t keep my wedding dress Lucy. I think I gave it to a charity shop”.

“Why didn’t you keep it? I would love to dress up in it and now I can’t” uttered Jemma as if it was something she would never get over!

“Well now, let’s wake the boys up and get your things organised for when Mum gets here. We don’t want to keep her waiting do we?”

When my daughter arrived to collect the children, Jemma had to tell her about the story I told as if getting rid of my wedding dress was a mortal sin!

“Mum Grandma told us the story about her wedding day to Grandad and guess what, she never kept her wedding dress!”

“Oh well, some people don’t keep them for lots of different reasons. I’m sure when you get married one day Jemma you will have yours hanging up in your wardrobe for ever! Now kiss Gran, say ‘thankyou’ and let’s get you all home.

I hadn’t told the children the real version of my wedding day. Most of it was true except for one minor detail…it wasn’t Grandad I was marring. It was Steven, the love of my life at the time. We did court, get engaged and I did walk up the aisle on the arm of my father but Steven never turned up that day. I remember waiting and watching for him to run into the church with a funny excuse for being so late, but he didn’t. We all waited for half an hour but he didn’t come. I began to panic in case he was hurt in some way. Even his family were stunned. Steven had told my brother to go on to the church with his family as he needed a few minutes on his own to do something. My brother put it down to a few nerves and nothing more.

Eventually it had been such a long time that my brother ran to the Granger’s house to see what Steven was doing. There was no Steven, just a note for me.

He just couldn’t go through with it the note read. He thought he loved me but had doubts and decided that he couldn’t do this to me. He wrote that I deserved better, to marry someone who was sure of their love for me.

After the shock and then the embarrassment of your fiancé not turning up to the church, I cried for days. I of course never thought I would ever meet anyone I could love again, not like Steven anyway. But I was proven wrong when less than two years later I met and fell in love with David. I couldn’t face another fancy wedding even though technically I hadn’t had a first wedding but none the less, we married in a registry office. I wore a smart suit and had, long before this wedding, given the dress away anyway.

I knew the children were far too young to understand so it was simpler to tell my ‘wedding day’ story with David in it instead of Steven. It was a ‘happily ever after’ story after all.