Do you want another one?

Let’s call this Granny’s front room part two.

Boo! Did I scare you? Two posts in one week I definitely scared myself. It felt right for the last post to end as it did, exactly as I’d drafted. It was already getting quite long as well, but I still think it deserves some reflection. If you haven’t read it yet I am disappointed. But you can make it up to me by reading it now here and then coming back.

I’ve really been in my nostalgia era. Memories of being young and random moments from childhood have been floating up to the surface, putting themselves front of mind for the past weeks and months even. Have you ever felt comforted by your childhood self? Your pure innocence and optimism for the world. Getting my Granny’s front room onto the page came easily and it was like a big bear hug to younger Mary. 

Other little games and silly inventions have also been coming back to me. I text my family group chat. “Do you remember when we’d have chocolate mousse for dessert after dinner and we’d wait patiently, spoons poised until someone yelled ‘DIG DEEPER’ the green light to take huge heapfuls of mousse (mud) and shovel it in our mouths???” My brother and sisters did remember. I was glad to share and validate the memory of it happening with other people. 

My dad died in May last year and I think this is all a display of grief. Yes, I’ve just gone from chocolate mousse to dead parent. I’m sorry if you choked on your lunch and/or spat out your tea. I’m yet to find a segue to death that isn’t a total buzzkill so please bear with. 

I think my nostalgia is grief. Well, acceptance. Kind of. Clinging to fond memories I have of being young with a visceral awareness that I must do this to keep the stories alive. Losing a parent means one less person who was an adult that knew you as a child. Someone to tell you what you were like at your height of imaginative creativity. To reveal details of your past self, a ‘you’ that you don’t remember. To shed light on the early journeys you took to become the fumbling adult (speaking only for myself, of course) you are today.

I haven’t been to Granny’s house in well over a decade. She passed away, the house was renovated and so Granny’s front room is no more. It exists only in my mind. Keeping the memory of the room alive feels important. Engaging all my senses and visualising the space where play and games were so vividly animated meaning it can continue to live on. 

I’ve really enjoyed revisiting my younger self. I’ve felt more connected to her than I have in a long time. After briefly rifling through my mum’s old tapes to try and compare my version of Granny’s front room with the real thing I also found a clip of me looking astonishingly good in a velvet halterneck hot pink jumpsuit on my 6th birthday. Turns out that’s when I peaked. 

We could all try channelling more childhood euphoria into our present-day adult selves (and perhaps some style tips as well). Making space for a little bit of magic. Finding pockets of joy in day-to-day mundanity. To look back on the now in years to come and feel warm fuzzy fondness for the everyday moments that have, with time, become defining memories. 

Life is short. Carpe diem. Live laugh love. Insert uncomfortable cliche (akin to fridge magnet or wall-hanging quote) of your choice here. I really needed to end on an ounce of scepticism and a dash of sarcasm to balance everything out. Much better.