I’m off to see my nan this weekend. She’s just moved into an a retirement home with my step grandad. Having spent many years living in the centre of London and being fiercely independent, they’ve finally had to give in to some sort of residential care.
‘Being old is like getting a life sentence without committing the crime,’ is my nan’s latest phrase and I can see what she means. But despite her advancing years, she still loves cooking and entertaining.
So when I phoned up earlier today to check what time I was expected I also asked what I could bring round. Knowing that both her and my grandad struggle to get around, I imagined the list would be quite long. ‘Just some white sugar cubes, please. A big box,’ she said. OK… this must be a pretty big box if she needs to enlist my help, I thought. ‘No, just the 200 cubes size.’
And that’s all she wants. Apparently they’re a nightmare to find these days but are perfect for anyone with arthritis (‘who wants grains of sugar all over their carpet?’). Good old nan. Despite the sugar cubes, she’s still just as fiercely independent as she ever was.