My very first memories of Grandma and Grandad are ones of their complete lack of inhibition in showing me their adoration for us as their grandchildren. As a child, of course I took this for granted, but I now realise how precious a gift this is to a child, and how lucky we were. My mum wrote in her entry about how instinctively Grandma gazed into our eyes as babies, and it reminded me of some lines in a musical called ‘Waitress’, which reminded me of the kind of grandmother Grandma was. It’s a song to an expectant mother’s unborn baby: “I hope someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight… all they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight without an ounce of selfishness in it. I hope you become addicted, baby, I hope you become addicted to saying things and having them matter to someone”. Grandma and Grandad gave me the gift of love which felt wholly unconditional. There would be genuine interest in whatever it was that I chatted away to them about, and it felt as though our successes and joys were theirs too.

Particularly as younger children, Grandma and Grandad made sure to give me, Isaac and Thea tonnes of happy memories with them, both on this side of the world and the several times they made the long journey to come and visit us all the way in New Zealand. Those memories are countless, but a few stand out to me: dressing up warm to go into the minus 25°C zone of the Antarctic Centre in Christchurch, where we stood alongside penguins, riding the train to the top of Snowden, and our trip to Butlins.

I feel particularly grateful to have a bound book which Grandma wrote for her family and gave to me as a teenager, detailing the events of her life. It’s full of interesting stories that I would never have asked enough about as a child, but luckily she’s left them all to us forever. After Grandad died, Grandma had a coffee table that he had made many years prior - but had been left falling into disrepair in the garage - restored for me.

I have so many fond memories of Grandma and Grandad’s house - strangely, above all else, the distinctive (and lovely!) smell of the garage, where the Rolls-Royce lived. Grandma always encouraged us to be creative and as other people have written about, often took responsibility for organising fun and activities. I remember her encouraging me to try my hand at flower-arranging for the flowers that would go inside the Rolls-Royce, and my strongest memory from that experience happens to be how much I enjoyed sticking my fingers into the floral foam… 

I’ll miss Grandma’s love, humour and playfulness. I recently found a letter Grandma wrote me in May, which she signed ‘Lots of love, to you + Marcus’. Marcus - Marcus Fielding - is a (rather anthropomorphic) fox stuffed animal that I own, who wears a smart checked shirt with a pocket square. Grandma was there the Christmas that I got him, and she fully embraced the fun, laughter and anthropomorphisation - later enquiring about how he was doing. I’ll miss that playfulness, unconditional interest and gentleness - but most of all feel lucky to have had it.