The Tory Taxi Service and Other Nan Stories
Throughout the 1960s and 70s, my visits to my Nan's house on Mayhill were lessons in kindness, humour, and quiet subversion. My grandmother was kind, gentle, and nurturing, but she also had a wicked sense of humour that could catch you completely off guard.
The Tory Taxi Service
Whenever there was an election in the UK, the political parties would send out their workers to inform voters about their manifesto and encourage them to vote. As an incentive, they'd also offer to arrange a lift to and from the polling station. This made practical sense, as few working-class people had private cars.
My Nan would always accept a lift from the Conservative party representative.
As I got older, I became somewhat confused about this. I assumed she was voting Conservative when I knew she expressed political views that were far more socialist. One day, years later, I asked why she voted for the Tory party.
She told me that she didn't. All she was doing was making the Tory party pay for the expense of driving her to the polling station — where she would vote for the Labour party. She said it made her smile.
It made me laugh. The woman was running her own private redistribution scheme, one free ride at a time.
Technology Troubles
As she grew older, my Nan didn't really know how to use a public telephone. She was never sure about when to put the coins in and got confused by the whole process. I know how she felt — I often have to call my daughter and ask her to fix whatever mess I've made with my mobile phone.
This meant that on the rare occasion she wanted to make a call, I had to go with her to the phone box, dial the number, put in the coins, and hand her the phone when the line connected. In today's world where everybody expects everybody to be immediately contactable, the thought that some people didn't know how to use a phone seems strange and impossible.
But honestly? There was something rather peaceful about living in a world where you couldn't be reached unless you wanted to be.
The Daily Flossy Show
My grandmother's dog was named Flossy, a mongrel but 95% golden Labrador with 100% of a Lab's temperament. She adored my Nan and seemed to know around what time she was due home from work.
When the time was near, Flossy would take up her position on the armchair near the window, watching the top of the steps like a sentry. When she saw a double-decker bus go by, she'd start to get agitated in anticipation. If Nan didn't appear afterwards, she'd look genuinely heartbroken and settle down until the next bus arrived.
But when Nan finally appeared at the top of the steps? Pure canine hysteria.
Flossy's tail would start wagging and pick up speed until her whole back-end was moving back and forth due to the momentum. She'd jump up and down and run in and out of the kitchen in her excitement. Debbie, my grandfather's poodle, would wisely keep out of the way while this exhibition of pure joy took place.
Nan would have to drop whatever she was carrying to calm Flossy down, but the tail wagging continued long afterwards. Every single day, the same performance. as if Nan had returned from a year-long expedition rather than a day at work.
The Great Dog vs. Cat Debate
That's the great thing about dogs, they're always happy to see you, no matter what. Cats, on the other hand... There's an old joke: Dogs come when they're called. Cats have answering machines.