'I always associate the cawing of rooks with my Cooper grandparents' (Charles and Kate) cottage in London Road, Bognor,' remembers Barbara Greenshields (nee Jupp) born in 1924. 'There were trees opposite and the rooks seemed always to be there. How strange that smells and sounds never fail to prod one's memory.

A few doors away lived Kate's mother - my great-grandmother Emily Rishman and her son Frank. Gran, as she was known, was a grey and wrinkled bedridden old lady. Mother, Annie and Maggie (Mother's sisters) had at various times all attended to her needs and demands but with mother and Annie now married these duties were left mainly to Maggie, shared to some extent by Grandma.

All the sisters told tales of Gran's cantankerousness. Her bed was in the living room from where she gave her orders, and found fault, except when she was sure she was dying. Then she would select the inheritors of her possessions - 'You can have my bonnet Annie, the strings might come in useful.'

When Mother and her sisters were all at home, Gran's house served as a dormitory. This must have been convenient in some ways, as there wasn't much room in my grandparents' cottage. It also ensured there was someone to answer Gran's demand of 'Bring me my po', a task no doubt thought unsuitable for her son.

Grandma wasn't at all pleased to be awakened by Annie one night with the urgent request 'Mum, come and get rid of the spider in our room, Maggie and I can't go to sleep'.

Grandma reluctantly obliged. 'Fancy getting me out of bed at this hour to come down the street in my night-gown just to chase a spider away', she scolded. 'You could have done that yourselves'. All the sisters suffered with arachnophobia. Mother couldn't bear spiders either, but would never harm them. 'If you wish to live and thrive let a spider run alive', was her maxim.

Gran always seemed pleased to see Mother and I. When we visited in the evening after Frank (Mother's brother) had come home from work, he would say, 'Let's give you a scrub' and rub his chin against my cheek. I received this show of affection with mixed feelings, as it wasn't a particularly comfortable experience. He just didn't realise how bristly his chin had become by the end of the day.

The range in Gran's living room had a tap at the side and Frank would demonstrate to me that hot water came out of it. I thought this a wonderful arrangement - wouldn't it be a good idea if we could get hot water out of our range at home? Frank was a kindly man, always generous to us at Christmas.

I once stayed with Auntie Maggie in Gran's house and we slept together in the big bed in the front bedroom. We went across Spencer Street to visit Mrs. Knight of 'Knight's Corner' and I played with her daughter, Evelyn.

No one ever said exactly what was wrong with Gran. A few years ago my father's explanation was that after a long working life she'd had influenza and so enjoyed resting in bed and being waited on, she decided she wouldn't get up again.

When I was studying the 1871 census I was surprised to discover that Grandma had a sister Edith, a little younger than herself. I wondered if she had died in infancy and mother had been named after her, but Dad told me that Edith had a baby 'the wrong side of the blanket'. At some time afterwards she and her son died, but I have no idea when these events took place. Gran had done better than her daughter, Edith, and was married about a month before Kate was born.

I had started school when Maggie appeared with her fiancé, Wally, quite early one morning with the sad news that Grandma had died suddenly. She and Mother were both in tears. Gran survived her daughter, I think by about a year. Annie would put flowers on Gran's grave with the comment, 'There you are Gran, but I don't suppose they're right for you.'