As for my own, I would love to have tea with my nanny. My father is British and up until I was 12, we would visit England every summer to go see my Dad’s family. The only one person we would always, without fail, visit was his mother – nanny. I only vaguely remember her, a tiny little woman – the vision of softness and grandmotherly-ness. She would invite us into her little tiny three room house (it was in a kind of elderly community), and pay special attention to me. She would hold my hands in hers, (her hands were always cold) and peck me on the cheeks and then ask me, “Would you like sugar and milk in your tea dear?” and that’s all I can remember. When I was twelve, she passed away and that was when we stopped out trips to England. Now that I’m much older, I would love to be able to sit down for tea with her. To hear about how she managed to get my father and herself sanely through WWII – Did she find ingenious ways to bake with the meager rations? How was life when she was growing up? What was my grandfather like? There are so many things I can only make guesses about.

Thank you for sparking my memory about her! I’m sad to say it’s been many months since I’ve thought about nanny.

xoxo

- Eve