What do you remember about how your grandma used to live?

I only remember one grandparent. She lived with us for about the last ten years of her life and made us all very unhappy. She hardly spoke to my father at all. I cannot remember her ever saying anything positive to me. It was always 'you could do better'. On the rare occasions I did do something okay I was told 'well it should always be like that - there's no need for praise'!

Maternal GPS lived in next road & our back gardens were only separated by a drive giving access to garages so I could dive over there if Mum was cross with me. I was spoiled rotten.
Other GPS lived near Clacton in Essex so holidays there were fun too.
I was very lucky.

My paternal grandmother - Nanna lived in a terraced house like many already described. Two rooms and a scullery downstairs, the scullery still had a gas light which hissed. Everything happened in the back room, she baked there grandad sat in an armchair there reading the paper, the TV was there when they got one. They both watched the racing and picked out horses. Nanna told fortunes in tea cups. On Sunday evenings all the family had tea at the table- ham or some other cold meat, bread and butter, pickle, celery in a glass in the middle followed by tinned fruit and evaporated milk. Then we children were sent into the front room while the grown ups played cards.
My maternal grandmother was widowed when I was 11. She moved into a prefab when I was 7. It was an amazing house and I loved staying there. First house I ever saw with a fitted kitchen and a fridge. There was a huge garden which grew all sorts of soft fruit. Raspberries and fresh cream from the fridge was my favourite. She used to sing when she was doing the housework. I still remember "I like a nice cup of tea" and "When the red red robin". She lived to be 90, moving into a sheltered bungalow in her 80s. In later years she always carried a bottle of brandy in her handbag-"For medeecenal purposes."

MacCavity2 the ice cream was a lovely treat! My grandpa used to cycle the 18 mile round trip to the nearest town and bring back a block of ice cream wrapped in several layers of newspaper to stop it melting. Siblings and cousins waited excitedly for his return.

It was sliced up and handed round sandwiched between wafers ?

My maternal grandparents lived in various different houses in Lancashire. I can't remember my grandad working but they were always buying or building properties that they used to rent out.He would start building a house, leave it for a few years, and then carry on. They were always 'flitting'. If someone wanted to rent the house they were in they would move to another one. I lived with them during the school holidays and never knew where I would come back to.

My grandad was the town mayor and a JP but my granny used to run a black market shop from the cellar of her house. I can remember the neighbours queuing up every week for bacon.

In later years my grandad used to have tons of bricks delivered. He used to spend all day breaking them for no particular reason. He also employed a couple of men to help him.

I think you would class them as eccentric, to say the least.

Gran was born in 1902 and as a child had to attend church 3 times on a Sunday, changing her clothes every time. She was put into "service" at the age of 13 where she had to take letters in to the mistress of the house on a silver tray. She was up at 5am cleaning grates. She had half a day off a week. She used to say, "Good old days? There was nothing good about it!"

Grannynannywanny. I have similar memories as you. My Nan never had a coat, she always wore a shawl, huge black one. We had a long walk to church on Sundays and I always had ice cream after church. I adored the wonderful lady.

Grandmother No 1 died when my mother was 16 - so obviously no memories. Grandmother no 2 - hideous old bat who we were forced to go and have tea with a couple of times a year. When she and (lovely downtrodden grandfather) down sized she made my parents go to the auction to buy any furniture they would like. (My parents immediately post war were living in a tied cottage on 10/- a week agricultural pay). She made every attempt to break up my parents marriage, eventually succeeded and changed her will to leave the lot to her new Grandson. My mother 'only' had two daughters! When I produced my second daughter she wrote to commiserate with me that I had not had a boy!!!!!!! I never spoke to her after that. She had no redeeming features - none.

Some interesting stories here, I remember the 'glory hole' as well grannysue

My grandparents refused to acknowledge me as I was adopted and illegitimate. Their loss.

My maternal GP's lived in a Northern terrace house with two rooms and a scullery downstairs.
The front room was for best, and to my knowledge it was never used.
The back room was a kitchen cum sitting room with a huge range which was "blacked" every day. Religiously.
There was a walk in cupboard off the kitchen called the glory hole. Everything was put/shoved in there.
Monday was wash day which involved lots of clothes bubbling in a metal cauldron, the being put through the mangle several times.
Washing was hung outside even on icy cold days and was often brought back inside just as wet.
Gran had lots of huge aspidestra type plants in a sealed glass tank infront of the window. The glass went mouldy.
Gran wallpapered the rooms every single spring. Trouble was, she never removed the old paper, so the walls became thickened and squidgy!
Grandfather walked to the corner pub every evening to collect a jug full of ale to "sup" at home.
Outside toilet and the proverbial newspaper squares on a string. Don't know where these came from as neither of them read the newspapers.
Happy memories of a lovely Gran who would do anything for her family.

My maternal grandparents lived in Bromley Kent when we were very little and then they retired down to the Sussex coast where we spent bucket and spade holidays until grandad died. My mother always said it was a mistake going to the Sussex coast to retire, as there was an inevitability that the men died first and there were a multitude of widows. Then many years later, what did my parents do when they retired, up sticks to go and live on the Sussex coast, although when my father died my mother stayed there because she'd put down a lot of roots. My grandma went back to Bromley for a while to live with her two sisters who didn't marry because like many women of their time lost their young men in the Great War. After a while we sold our house in Surrey, she sold hers in Sussex and we bought a larger house in my home town and she came to live with us. She had her own part of the house my brother and I often spent time with her in her living room because we found that we could watch tv unrestricted a lot of half hour situation comedy if I remember rightly, our parents were quite strict with our tv viewing when we were junior school age. I wish I'd listened to all of my grandparents when I was younger and asked them more about their lives but somehow you don't when you're a child. That grandma was half Irish which was why my mother's side of the family were catholic and my grandad was half French, but protestant to my surprise as I'd spent much time piecing together family history, particularly about the French side. My great grandfather's father was somehow involved in the Franco Prussian war and lost a lot of money at that time. Going back to my grandma who was living with us, most of all I remember her steamed jam puddings, they were to die for. She was around for us a lot in the school holidays, my mother had gone back to work by the time I was eight or so, then when I was twelve nana had a series of strokes and eventually died, she wasn't really that old only early 70s but she did seem quite old. My grandparents lost my uncle to cancer when he was still only in his 30s and my mother was of the opinion that she had bottled that grief up and possibly that affected her health. Lives were quite different then.

My paternal grandparents lived in Wimbledon before we had a car we took the train there it was a direct line from where we were living and didn't take long. They lead different lives from my others grandparents, my grandad was an immigrant of Sicilian/Maltese parentage and my grandma although English had spent time in France because she had siblings that had settled there as did her daughter, my aunt who married a Frenchman and then had grandchildren there as well and that was where my grandparents met before they came back to England. So from an early age I was always aware of the comings and goings at their house of the French family arriving and departing. Grandad was very loud and foreign and a bit scary to me, but my mother later told me he shouted not because he was angry but because he was deaf. He kept rabbits which I often thought "how nice he has so many pets" but I was later to find that they were there for another purpose My grandmother was overly religious and I remember them always being there for rites of passage like First Communion and Confirmation. She was very well spoken and although a Francophile overwhelmingly English and had quite a posh upbringing until her mother died and then her father dragged the entire family off to France where his sister lived. We got told off for not using the correct grammar, or nonsense like wearing jeans she was always telling grandad off for being too loud, which he was. When she was a widow she spent quite a bit of time travelling to extended family particularly in Canada who I was also lucky enough to meet when we went to Vancouver ten or so years ago. My cousin who I met on line doing ancestry sent me loads of pictures of nana when she was a young woman and really beautiful.

My maternal grandparents retired to a little seaside town in Lancashire. To us children the house was magical. We lived in suburbia, but this was country. There was a cornfield (wheat, I suppose) right next to it, and the sea was a short walk away. We had to drive for a couple of hours to get there, and most of our wartime and postwar holidays were spent there.

Thre was a deserted blackbird’s nest, with eggs, in the shed, and behind a wall my grandfather grew something mysterious called shallots. There was a pair of bellows by the kitchen fire. The bathroom intrigued me. It smelt of coal tar soap, and the loo seat and bath panel were mahogany, which seemed very grand.

The milk didn’t arrive in bottles like ours. A jug was left on the back doorstep, to be filled by the milkman from a churn.

I don’t remember my grandma ever going out. She was always in the kitchen, cooking marvellous suet puddings full of fruit. I would sit at the kitchen table drawing. I had a cousin, John, who was very good at drawing, and she would pin up his drawings in the kitchen. Not mine, though. The earliest feelings of jealousy I remember stem from that. I was about six.

There were intriguing things in the attic. I would clatter up the bare wooden attic stairs to play with the bead loom, the Japanese paper sunshade, the Edwardian dolls’ china tea set, the ostrich feather fan, and wish I was allowed to use the oil paints. My grandma had been an infant teacher, and was very artistic.

I was lucky enough to have all four GPs around when I was growing up, plus four of my eight GGPs.

We lived with my maternal GPs till I was six. Granddad was a wonderful gardener so we had home grown vegetables daily. He would take me round their large garden, pointing out the different veggies and flowers. He was a great walker.
On Sundays, he and I would don our Sunday best and go visiting one or other of his seven siblings who lived within a bus ride locally. I am still visiting their extended families.
Or we would take a walk over the open area of common land opposite their house, and he'd buy me an ice cream on the way home.

Grandma was a tailor and made all our clothes, together with her sister, my Gt Aunt who was a splendid knitter. So we were well supplied with some lovely unique garments all of our young years.

Naturally, we longed for things from shops in the town...and coloured hair ribbons. I was only allowed brown ribbons and blue for best.

My paternal GPs lived the other side of the same Black Country village. they both went out to work. Grandma was a secretary at a large steelworks and Granddad was a civil servant. Their garden had an arrangement of privet hedges that we kids used to think of as a maze. Many a happy hour was spent chasing one another round this 'maze' till Granddad would call us in for tea.

Both sets of Gt GPs had those huge black ranges to cook on, with a toilet down the yard and a separate wash house.

I have loved reading this thread. Happy days indeed!

All grandparents dead before I had any memories of them. Maternal GM died when I was 3. So just black and white photos of a tiny, crabby looking old woman, with sparse grey hair in a bun, round spectacles, on a little walking stick which I still use if we go brambling.

My own dear mum looked like her in old age, but not at all crabby, with modern specs and hair that saw a hairdresser every week.

Grandma brought up 8 children, ran the house and did much work on the family farm. I should think her life was very hard, so no wonder she looked tired and crabby in old age.

My grandmother withstood too much shit from my grandfather which set a dysfunctional family pattern-

Aside from that, she lived a very simple life, didn't hesitate to jump on a plane and travel alone- She grew herbs beside her kitchen door, had an infectious laugh and beautiful smile and sapphire blue eyes- She loved soap operas and saying the rosary-

She drank tea (bagged..sorry) and saved the tags because they had quotes from Confucius printed on them- She wore dresses most of her life-

I wish she'd of left my grandfather-

Sorry, my Mum and my Aunty E provided all her meals. The annexe had one bedroom, Bath and toilet facilities. We loved visiting her and listening to her stories, most of which I have forgotten. She was a kind old lady, with grey hair twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. I can't remember how and when she passed away, isn't that strange?

My maternal grandma lived in the annexe of my Aunty's house - she was blind and we used to call her "blind Nana" (for obvious reasons)

My maternal grandparents lived in a rural farmhouse in Ireland. We spent every summer holiday there and loved it.

There was no running water/bathroom/toilet in the cottage. Water had to be drawn from a well half a mile away from the house. A novelty for us holiday makers bringing back buckets of water but hard work all year round in all weathers. No floor coverings, stone floors were swept out several times a day.

Cooking was done in pots hung over a huge open fire and a big black kettle was always on the boil hanging on a hook over the turf fire. Beautiful soda bread baked in lidded pots in the fire.
Cows were milked morning and evening. Some milk kept for family use and surplus sold to the creamery. My Gran made her own butter in a large wooden churn and we all took turns to wind the handle.

Potatoes, cabbages, onions, carrots, spring onions etc picked daily from the field behind the house. Homemade black pudding was made from oatmeal and pigs blood ?

Laundry was done in a stream 500 yards from the house. Rainwater was collected in a barrel and not a drop was wasted.

Lovely fresh eggs daily from the hens. Flour was bought in a large cotton sack and fresh bread baked daily. My Mum was one of 9 children who grew up in that house. She said as a child when the cotton flour sacks were empty they were made into vests for the girls!

Fuel for the open fire was turf which had to be cut manually from the farm’s bog and left to dry in the sun. Then brought into the house by the sackful.

My paternal GPs lived in a detached house within a market garden. The house had gas lights and an outside ash midden. Apart from the crops there was a stable for the horse because it was pre-motor transport and a pigsty where they reared pigs for food.
My maternal GPs lived in a large house in a mining village with indoor sanitation and electric lights.
Both sets of GPs cooked in coal fired ovens and with kettles over the open fire.

My grandmother had a first class green thumb. Her garden was filled with hundreds of colorful blooms and smelled incredible. Every year at Christmas the local news paper took pictures of one wall of the house that was covered with poinsettia blooms. Inside she had lovely African violets. She had 11 children (2 died within a few days of birth). She was also a great cook. She taught me "the basics", but always with sweet encouragement. She also taught me to love a cold glass of buttermilk!

I only knew one grandmother, all the others died before I was born and this one hated me. I was the only girl, the baby and she was jealous. Me and mum used to visit her by coach/bus once or twice a year in a poverty stricken little place in Yorkshire. A one up, one down rented back to back house on an unmade street, no toilet or bathroom. Just the living room with a sink in one corner, a couple of gas rings, a gas poker to light the fire (a hazard if ever I saw one), a cellar below for the coal and a bedroom above. I had to sleep in the same room obviously in some kind of put you up and mum and grandma shared the bed. The shared toilet was behind the houses, don’t know how many shared it, squares of newspaper and all that.

I didn’t think it was odd although we had a bathroom etc at home, it was just different. What I do remember was there was a park very near which I could go to and a sweet shop with all sorts of sweets we didn’t get in Lancashire. No other children to play with, nothing to do except the park swings or hobble on the unmade roads to a shop that sold warm jellified pork pies which I didn’t like, still don’t like the jelly.

I find it odd now thinking about it but there was no alternative, I couldn’t stay at home as dad was at work I suppose. She came to live with us later and made my life a misery. No love lost I’m afraid!

I have a vague memory of one of my granny and grandad's houses. A big old Victorian house. So old the gaslights were still on the wall although I assume they had electricity by then.

Their next house was a lovely big house. It had a walled kitchen garden which my grandad spent a lot of time in. I liked being in there with him. I used to be allowed to pick and eat the peas.

I remember going to the shops with them. Very old fashioned places, like something out of a film. A fancy grocery shop with displays of delicious foods in glass cabinets. I remember grandad selecting cheeses.

After that house it was a modern bungalow. Still lovely granny and grandad, but no more 'romantic' memories. Lovely family ones though.

My other granny lived in a big house on the village green. I stayed with her sometimes but it was a spooky old house. It was once the village workhouse. Glad I didn't know that as a child! No inside toilet LONG after everyone had them. A guzzunder instead. I hated it.

My maternal Nan came up from Wales to London after my Grandpa was seriously hurt in a mining accident. He was no longer able to do manual work so they ran a cafe together in London. Later he got a job as a civil servant and she worked in a shop making glass animals they were so cute I often wonder what happened to her collection. They had a two up two down house in Ealing, no inside toilet and she grew Vegs in her tiny garden. Sadly she died when I was 10.

My gran,the only one I knew,was raised on her Grandfathers farm in Donegal .She wasn't born there but her mother took her and her siblings home to escape a violent marriage ,It should be said she asked her priests advice and he said she should leave while she was able .They moved back to Scotland when she was 20 ,after the death of her older sister and she met my grandpa here .She was a strong willed opinionated woman who was politcally involved from a young age ,a sufragette and one of the first women to join the Labour party .
She also had a heart of gold and they would take in people who were struggling until they found their feet ,A young couple with twins lived in one of their rooms during the depression .Grandpa was a tailor so they were comfortably off . Grandpa died during WW11.When I was small we lived with her and then she moved in with us when my parents got their own home ,she was with us until I was 18.She was my hero,my inspiration and I still miss her almost 50 years since she died ,#
I always say if my GC have a fraction of the happy memoriesof me that I have of my granny I'll be delighted .Thankfull that she was in my life

In my early childhood my paternal grandparents lived in a tiny cottage with gas lighting. I can still recall the smell, I loved it. No inside bathroom or toilet. A coal fire for heating. A range for cooking. A scullery not a kitchen. Immaculately clean with a huge square table and very hard armchairs. Widowed when I was 9 my grandmother was moved to a house with electricity. Pleased? Certainly not, she was terrified of it. She never seemed to change, always tiny, smiling, in a wrap around pinafore. She loved her garden, there was always something to show me and a biscuit in the barrel for me. She was close enough to visit every Sunday, I loved her.

My maternal grandmother seemed less accessible somehow. She was kind, portly, patient, also wore a pinafore but seemed distant. An inside toilet and electricity. The first tv in the family, we all congregated to watch it, there was a piano, lots of singing. My maternal grandparents moved to a seaside town when I was in my early teens, I’d go and stay, enjoyed it but remember my grandad being with me, not my grandmother. I never felt close to her, no idea why, she was always kind and thoughtful. She died when I was 15. I suspect had been unwell for years, her illness kept from everyone. I loved her too, but in a different way.

Memory can be strange, I wonder now how it really was and how it was for them.