My paternal nana was lovely.
Kind, open, gentle but not wet, she was tough as old boots and fiercely intelligent.
She was witty too, and had a wicked, dry sense of humour.
She didn't have a bad word to say about anyone, and despite her upbringing (rural Irish Catholic in the 30s) she was exceptionally liberal. She had no problems with either my dad marrying my CofE mum, or my uncle being gay, or either myself or my cousin having children before we were married. She didn't bat an eyelid when either my dad and my aunt got divorced.
She told me once, that she wrote to her cousin in England when her children went to university, asking for condoms so she could slip them into their luggage because her doctor wouldn't suddenly give her any more, and she knew full well what kind of shenanigans students get up to.
She was also very houseproud which my parents aren't, so I loved visiting her house because it was lovely (I couldn't put finger on why until recently, but I think it was because it was clean).
My aunt and my little cousin lived in the same house, and our nana would make us sugar sandwiches on thick fluffy white bread, with half an inch of butter and several spoons of sugar, and tell us not to tell our mams. She would make us ice cream floats with red lemonade so it would go all pink, and sing us lullabies when we couldn't sleep.
She was also tiny, but whenever she said jump, all six of her children said how high, and if she ever had to raise her voice or have an argument with an adult while we were in earshot she would speak in Irish so we wouldn't understand the swearing (she didn't cotton on that we understood the swear words long before either of us could string together a sentence in irish)
She was also a fabulous baker and made the best pies and cakes, but her gravy was bloody awful.
She died a few years ago, and we held her wake in the 'posh' hotel in her town, the people didn't all fit in the hotel and a lot of them ended up milling around the grounds saying it was just like Eleanor to have the courtesy to die in the summer so we didn't all get too much rain in our beer.
My maternal granny still alive and is alright in small doses when she's in a good mood, and does the things that granny's do, slipping money into pockets on the sly and making sure that grandchildrens favourite food is in.
She's become a good deal more cantankerous in her old age, which is understandable as she suffers with myriad health problems now and is in pain more often than not.
She's also a really really excellent cook and despite her giving me her recipes I can't get my food to taste like hers. She's also a really cracking host and is really good at making all of her guests feel welcome and at ease, especially at Christmas.
She still dotes on my dead grandad (who is actually my mum's step dad) and can be a bit heavy going when she gets wistful of him, but I don't think she ever loved anyone quite as much as him, and he died quite young, only in his mid fifties.
As a child I thought she was wonderful, but as an adult, and after a few skeletons have fallen out of closets, I can see she can be actually quite a difficult woman if things don't go exactly her way (and can easily see why she and my mum had a quite volatile relationship for a long time).
She is lovely to her grandchildren, but can be quite awful to her daughters, which somewhat takes her shine off, especially since having my own child. I can't imagine saying /doing to my dc some of the things she has said/done to my mum and aunts.