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Born in 1967 I am the youngest of three girls and my favourite memories of growing up in the seventies are the frequent visits made to grandma's house, wrote Sandra Rowland (nee Broadbent).
Grandma and granddad Broadbent lived on a large council estate in Hull (No. 3 26th Avenue, North Hull Estate) but to me it was heaven. Our own house (off Hawthorn Avenue) was a terraced house with no garden and to be honest the street resembled Coronation Street. Whereas grandma's house had a large garden front and back. A privet hedge ran around the edge of it almost hiding the small wooden fence.
The whole estate was like this and to me it was the same as going into the countryside. We'd take the number 10 bus to get there and as soon as we arrived we were all eager to be the first to race up the path and press the doorbell.
As soon as the front door opened there would be one of them standing open-armed to welcome us and there was always a smell of baking, apple pies, bramble pies, bakewell tarts (especially for me) and biscuits. Funny thing is every time I smell apple pies I'm taken back to grandma's house.
Now my grandparents were just as you would expect, small, grey haired with glasses. My granddad even used a walking stick even though he didn't need to!
Their names were Ivy and Sam but those names were never heard, it was always 'Mam' and 'Dad' and they'd been married since they were young adults.
Grandma used to call me little 'un on account of me being the youngest or Sandy for short. Funnily enough she was the only person who my mother would allow to shorten my name.
They used to keep an old brass brush set on the hearth and whenever granddad had put some more coal on the fire I was always given the honour of sweeping the coal dust up.
Now the garden, what a garden, my grandfather loved his garden and always kept it looking perfect, the grass was always cut short, the flowers always seemed to be in bloom and there was never a weed in sight.
He had two trees at the side of the house and a large bramble bush that we used to pick from for our delicious bramble pies. To say that he loved his garden he obviously loved us more.
I remember on many occasions he would dig up little holes for us so that we could play golf, mind you he always kept the small piece of turf to put back after we'd finished.
He had two sheds at the bottom of the garden, one was for his gardening equipment and we never went into it but the other was our special place. He used it for all of his plant cuttings and usually had a small paraffin heater burning away in the corner. I can still smell it now!
My happiest times were spent there and I have lots of memories of Christmas parties that I would like to share with you at some point in the future.
I'm not sure if you have poetry on your site but I wrote this poem a few years ago and have since had it published.
DAYS OF LONG AGO
Summer days so long ago are very dear to me,
We used to go to Grandma's house each week for Sunday tea.
As soon as we walked through the door, my two sisters and I,
We'd smell the sweet aroma of home baked apple pie.
We'd have bakewell tarts and orange juice and lots of special treats.
And there would always be some sandwiches for Mum and Dad to eat.
The garden was a splendid sight, my Granddad's pride and joy.
He'd tended it with love and care since my Father was a boy.
There were Roses and Chrysanthemums, a Lilac tree so tall,
And so many flowers with different names but my Granddad knew them all.
My childhood memories that I have will stay with me I know,
My memories of those summer days.
Those days of long ago.
Sandra Rowland, Hull, 2001
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