I remember even though it was a long
time ago now when I was seven years old. I would go to my nanna and granddad’s
house on Saturday morning because my mum and dad had to go to work at the
Co-op. mum and dad would drop me off at 7 clock in the morning.
Half of me wanted to go with my parents to
work because of being bored, having no one to play with at my nanna and granddad’s
house but the other half looked forward to going in case my cousins came so I
could play with them. They were younger than me but I enjoyed playing with
them.
When I arrived at my grandparents’ house in
the morning. I could tell they had an argument because nanna would be in the
kitchen washing up and granddad would be sitting in the lounge reading the Sun
newspaper. If nanna would come in they just would not talk to each other for
ages. They both were very stubborn. I can always remember her wearing a half
apron around her waist, nana would wear her jumpers that she would knit for
herself and would wear curlers in her hair when I first arrived. Granddad would
be sitting in the chair with no top on, letting his round belly out for
everyone to see, and wore big black glasses and had big, bulging eyes: two big ears with hearing aids on both sides
and really short brown hair.
One of the things I was excited about
going round to my grandparents’ house was my nana’s cooking. I would lay the
table, granddad would be cutting the meat and nana would be dishing the dinner
out. I loved the smell of nana’s dinner cooking and hearing the chicken
sizzling away. Nana would dish everything on the table and you could just help
yourself but the best was her gravy, she would make it really thick and it would
sit on the dinner nicely on top. Sometimes nana would cook tripe and onions. I
hated the smell, it was absolutely disgusting, it was horrible, a fishy smell;
I could not stand being in the house when that was being cooked. It even looked
disgusting, a horrible white mess of fish, like white running water. It tasted vile;
from this day I still hate the smell of it. Nanna used to make me something else
when she cooked it for her, granddad and dad.
That morning we went into town. They
wanted some fish so we went to the fish market. I hated the smell in there and
it was so loud with all the shouting from the stall holders. It’s so you could
hear them over each other’s’ voices trying to get you to buy their fish and
meat. The fish mongers were shouting:
“Come and get your trap, crab, and half
a pound of prawns for three pounds, two pounds. All the fish is fresh today,
come and get your fish.”
The men were all wearing white aprons stained
with blood and fish guts and you would see them cutting up the fish with their,
big sharp sliver knives. When I walked by them I felt sorry for the fish and I
hated the fishes’ eyes, it was like they were looking at me giving me evil
looks. Nana and granddad bought their usual trap and chicken legs.
They took their purple, fabric shopping bag
with them and granddad was holding it for nana.
I did enjoy being with my grandparents when I was there and I was sad
when I had to go home, when my mum and dad came to pick me up.
This piece of work was really hard to come up with they wanted you to think of childhood memory. This was along time ago and find it really hard to think of somethink. Eventually thought about the weekends i spent with my grandparents.
copyright@Emma Fitzgerald
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