What Do You Remember About Your Grandparents House?

[RabbitsRock]

This popped up on Facebook & I thought it was rather lovely - I have wonderful memories of my maternal grandparents house & my paternal.
When DBro & I were little, we were lucky enough to live close to both sets of Grandparents. I remember the garden at my paternal Grandparents house the most. Beautiful flowers including a bed of stunning cornflowers. And at the end of the garden, over the low wall, was the most beautiful meadow. It really was like something out of an American movie, complete with a white picket fence & horses. I also remember sitting on the stairs & being so thrilled that I could hear my brother talking to me from a little cupboard in the outside passage. Oh & I remember the bureau where Grandpa kept his big bar of Dairy Milk. I also found some Pan books of horror stories & gave myself nightmares!
My maternal Grandparents first house was lovely, with high ceilings & big windows. I remember the old fashioned radiogram in the dining room where we spent most of our time. We would have those mini Kellogg’s cereals whilst listening to radio 4. I remember the comforting sound the pantry door made & I could see Sally’s lead & bags of biscuits inside. Sally was a very cute fox terrier. I remember all the bedrooms, especially the cosy one at the back of the house with the airing cupboard. The biggest bedroom at the front had a magical cupboard full of dressing up clothes & hats. My Grandma used to be in old tyme music hall so I could try on all her costumes. I get my love of music from her. I remember practising my scales on her piano & my Aunty got fed up & asked me to play something else! I also remember a beautiful music box inlaid with pearls, from Israel I think. That was one of the things I wish I could have had after my Grandparents died.

They had a very steep staircase (terraced house) that we used to slide down until they get a stairlift. They had the most beaitiful cobing in their hallway and reception rooms. They had one of those antislip mats in the bath and a plasticky shower curtain, noone else I knew had them. Their settees could be opened up and turned into beds. They would have a siesta everyday between 1-3pm and would make up the settees so any of the grandchildren could sleep too. My sister never did but I would sometimes. I remember the smell of the blankets being so comforting. My grandad would buy small coke cans and offer them to us whenever we visited. My grandad used to smoke a pipe after he stopped cigarettes and then gave it up altogether when his emphysema got worse. He had a stool with a removable lid that had all his empty cigarette boxes in but he wouldn't get rid of them. He had a fitted wardrobe in his living room that was like a treasure chest and sometimes he'd ask me to get things out of it for him and to translate letters. I used to think it would lead into Narnia. My gran had a huge pan that she would store under the kitchen table that she would pull out when she was cooking for large amounts of people. Whenever there was a party in the street or someone was getting married, she'd bring out that pan. She'd cook masala fish and homemade chips and used newspaper instead of a kitchen towel. Tea was always served in a teapcup with a saucer. My grandad used to give is travel sweets in a gold tin after dinner, I remember he would always tell my male cousin to let me choose first.

I miss the sounds and smells of that house, love poured out of it.

*beautiful coving even.

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What a lovely thread!

My maternal grandmother died when my Mum was 5, and her father died while she was pregnant with my older brother, so we only had one set of grandparents, from Welsh mining stock. They lived a 2-hour drive away, and we went there every month or so, always on a Sunday. For most of my childhood (3-11) we lived abroad, so didn’t see them unless we came back to the UK on leave. They never left the UK, however much we begged them to come and visit us across the world.

Their rented terraced house had a long front garden full of flowers, my Nana and Pop never had a car but I expect that garden is a concrete drive now. The (again quite long) back garden was filled with home-grown fruit and veg.

They had a dirty white cat called Snoopy, but he tended to disappear when we arrived. The stairs were long and steep, and their double bed seemed extraordinarily high to me - which I liked, as my favourite story was The Princess and the Pea.

The house always smelled of boiled cabbage as that’s what we always had with our well-done roast beef Sunday dinner. (We then went to my aunt’s for tea, about an hour later, tabled piled high with cold meats and salad, sausage rolls, crisps, cakes galore, all the best food.) Nana ate so slowly, partly because she never stopped talking, we’d sit there for an hour waiting for her to be ready to dish up the apple pie for pudding.

I loved Pop but Nana disapproved of my Irish mother, so I never really liked her much. Dad was her favourite child and no woman would have ever been good enough for him. I was just a kid but absorbed this, it was very apparent. She was very Welsh, fiercely so, and was constantly telling my Dad how much he looked liked Gareth Edwards or Richard Burton or any other high profile Welshman. (He didn’t.)

My grandparents had a dark blue Perspex serving hatch between the kitchen and lounge, it was such a novelty for us, we loved sending things through it.
My Nan used to buy blocks of Neapolitan ice cream, cut off little rectangles from it and put it between two wafers.
They also had these retro bed sheets with pastel coloured stripes.

Brushed flannel sheets and a pile of very heavy blankets!

What a wonderful thread.

Little old cottage on a hill with black beams inside, and a very big garden with flowers everywhere and a weeping willow tree, under which we'd sit and have home-made milkshakes that grandma made (never tasted any better since). Sloping fields away from the garden, with dairy cows that would come right up and moo at us over the fence. Playing card games in the evenings by the open fire, with grandpa smoking his pipe. The most amazing roast dinners and home-made puddings. Tucked up in bed with my sister at night, quietly playing imagination games (that bed used to fly all over the countryside with us desperately clinging to the covers). The 6 o clock news was sacrosanct, and we weren't allowed o make a peep when it was on (which of course would bring on the giggles), or grandpa would glare at us (the only time he was ever, ever grumpy with us). Long, long walks in the countryside with sweet, milky tea when we got home. That house will stay in my heart and soul forever.

I remember the smell of my grandmother’s perfume and the yellow living room with bright floral sofas. I also remember a guest sign in book that she kept on a table by the front door.

My Maternal Grandfather died when I was 5. I remember squares of chocolate.
My Maternal Grandmother was an alcoholic. I remember being afraid.
My Mother's husbands parents wouldn't have my Mother or me in the house.
My 'real' (deceased) Father's parents - I didn't even know who they were.

But...
I 'adopted' an old lady in our terraced street (we were both lonely I think!)
I took her a rose from our garden when I was 5 & we became firm friends.
I saw her almost every Sunday aged about 5-15. When I was small we baked & she made me a ballet dress. She bought cream soda for me. We watched James Herriot programmes & Black Beauty on her old TV set. Later, from my Saturday job money, I bought her a budgie (she adored him). I moved when I was 15, but I still tried to see her once a fortnight. She died later that year. I was devastated. I'd been on holiday & no-one told me but I got back for the Funeral. RIP Miss Maxted. And Thank You. You were so very important to a very lonely little girl.

@medianewbie

I'm sure you were very important to your Miss Maxted too.
How wonderful that you were able to find each other

My maternal grandparents home was big and lovely, but nothing exciting. It was pristine, didn't have 'a smell' and not much nostalgia from it.

But my paternal grandparents lived in the deep south of America. In a big ranch house with a veranda wrapping around it, screen doors and a long driveway. Built in bunk beds in the eaves, and massive bedrooms all with en suites. The kitchen was painted 'yella' and the sofas were floral. Grandma made cakes with me and taught me to sew, Grandpa took me fishing and had me sit with him in the fields while he worked the ranch. There was a river in the back lined with trees and one summer i visited and found grandpa had built a little chair and a big chair for us to sit at. I could talk about it for hours. They died recently and we're tentatively planning to move there.

@Ladyoftheknight that sounds absolutely wonderful, I can almost see it. In your position I'd be there like a shot.

Lovely that... yes the dust "motes"?? caught in the stream of sun coming through the windows (at my nanna's)
And the heat & humidity at my Amah's flat in Singapore and the cooking smells of ginger & garlic (didn't know the names of any ot these things growing up)

My DM's parents were farmers, we used to roam around the farm playing on tractors and doing lots of unsafe stuff. I stood on a nail once and it went right into my foot - dad just pulled it out (boak).

The smell, i always remember the smell, like warming stews and baking. I remember everything about the layout, the decor, even my nans silver teaspoons. But the first thought is that comforting hug of the smell

Strange feelings. Of being third best with both grandmas. Paternal adored my dad, her only son and then my sister who’s a miniature of her. Bossy, snappy and domineering
grandad was a cutie but we were both supremely wet so they’d not let us wander off alone together to explore or read or just be chill. He was truly a gentle angel who died when I was 20

my maternal grandfather died 7 yrs before I was born but weirdly my nan was also all about my mum but didn’t like either me or my sister

sad really

my mum is close to my daughter now but only because of my constant efforts because I really feel sad that I didn’t get that bond. It’s not come natural to her as I guess she isn’t self aware of how grandparenting can be
its sad because I see my sister taking the same route. Her oldest confided in me that she hesitates to have kids because she wants a multi generational family unlike hers.
i think or hope I’ll be different because I am aware …

The rooms piled one on top of the other in a London Edwardian terrace: cellar, basement, scullery, living room, lodger's room, bathroom, bedrooms, attic bedroom out of which window you could look out over the rooftops Mary Poppins style.
The knife grinder in the cellar.
The air raid shelter in the tiny back yard.
The terrifying gas geyser over the clawfoot bath.
The meat safe with the marble slab and the perforated metal door.
The box of wooden play bricks.

And then seaside granny ....
Swathes of sweet peas round the vegetable plot. Clouds of scent.
Being wheeled round the garden in a wheelbarrow by my brother.
The tiny stream at the end of her garden.
Massive meals in elegant dishes.
Walking to the jetty in the village.
Collecting mussels to be pickled.
Catching the steam train from the small village station into Exmouth.

.... so many memories ....

Lovely to read some warm memories like this. I have never visited a grandparents house, ever. Not once. So no memories at all.

One grandma lived with two maiden aunts and was an invalid.
We children used to call her “wobbly grandma” privately and the adults had to translate what she was saying to us because she was so quavery, and I didn’t really know what she was like, although she always seemed pleased to see us.
One of the aunts kept house and the other went out to work.
Housekeeper aunt was a beautiful soul and I adored her.
The house smelt of beeswax and soap and always had flowers in tall vases. There was a large kitchen and a small parlour which had sofas and armchairs with flowery loose covers and really bright cushions, crocheted by my aunt. We hardly ever went into the sitting room, which was dark and formal, with lots of brass.
The garden was huge, full of flowers with a winding grassy path through shrubs and trees and a kitchen garden at the end. This was compulsorily purchased for a road in the end. I remember how disgusted everyone was.

I can only just remember my other grandparent's house, which was huge and rambling, with big deep roofs. It had a lych gate and a large pond, which I wasn't allowed near. The staircase wasn't straight but wound round up to the galleried landing. The lighting threw our shadows on the wall as we went up to bed, so it was very spooky.
That, too was compulsorily purchased for a pittance and I think demolished, although it wouldn't have been permitted nowadays.
The grandparents came to live with us and had some rooms in our house. I used to get invited in for tea and sit round the huge brick fireplace, which had two square places to sit incorporated into the hearth. There were pipe racks and brass fire irons and a loudly ticking clock, with a pendulum. They had black furniture and black and grey striped armchairs on either side of the fireplace, with folding Indian brass tables on barley sugar legs. We would play dominoes and cards and eat chocolate cake.
My grandfather used to take care of the garden until he became infirm and I used to “help”.

I only just remember the home they had until I was about 6, which was where my dad grew up, in North London. Dark, cosy sort of a place with a lovely garden. Most of my memories after that are of the flat they had afterwards in a pretty upmarket neighbourhood. It was very big and quite high up. We loved staying there as kids as they had a jacuzzi bath which super fun, and also they were near an army barracks where they kept horses so sometimes you'd be woken early if staying over by the sound of a line of horses clopping down towards central London!

It was only years later I realised that they must have sold that flat and moved into my late great-grandfather's smaller flat nearby to help my parents through a tough financial patch.

I've just spent several hours reading this lovely thread. I can relate to so many of the memories described here.

This song has been running through my head throughout

How cold it was. It was warm in the kitchen with the range on but the rest of the house was freezing.
Can’t look at a cold meat salad without being back in that house. Brown bread and apple jelly.
The smell of turf burning transports me back too.

Maternal gps (the "rich" ones) - Had a 3 bedroom house and garden. Stacks of crates of different flavours of ginger, cakes/biscuits, nothing to do once you had made yourself ill with cake and ginger, sitting around bored while the adults talked. Grandpa had a mischievous sense of humour and gran was just always miserable and criticised/complained about everything including him. Ridiculously fat dog and cat that barely moved. Nicer furniture, shopped in M&S/John Lewis, fancy cordless phone (huge handset with aerial you had to pull out when you answered and you couldn't move too far from the base), bought (modest) modern house with central heating - made them seem "rich" in comparison to us, but they weren't really. Room full of clouds of cigarette and cigar smoke. I remember thinking they didn't like each other because they had separate bedrooms.

Paternal gran, widowed in late 40s, with 9 kids (the "poor" one) - Played and engaged with us more than the adults, got us to help/taught us how to do things in the kitchen, knit, how to prepare the fire etc. She always wore a tabard apron to protect her clothes. No treats but lots of fun and love. She would open the big sash windows in the 3rd floor tenement flat in the summer, and I would lean on the window sill with her people watching, talking to passing neighbours and putting the world to rights. My wee gran (I was taller than her by the time I was 10!) had a hard life but never complained about her lot and had a stunning (partly toothless!) smile that lit up her face.

Large Georgian house with a big winding staircase. The house had a servants passage which was dark and behind the staircase. As children we enjoyed daring each other to run through it.

I remember the light streaming down the staircase catching the particles of dust. I remember the silence of the big old house and the smell of old wood and eau de cologne.

The hardwood floors were always sticky as my grandmother refused to do house work of any sort, dishes and laundry piled up . Once they couldn't afford a housekeeper everything ground to a halt. Things were generally cluttered (and sticky).

Always a warm welcome and a huge pot of tea in the table in a vast ceramic tea pot.

I remember my mother grumbling every time as she boiled our white cotton socks. They always went black when we ran without slippers.

I also remember there only being a single indoor loo. Retro fitted in the 1960's over the big Georgian portico. I don't think the portico was designed to take the extra weight and it slowly drifted away from the building. So the bathroom was on a slant. Thinking back it looked very dangerous.

I loved visiting. There were no rules and the chaos was quite fun.

working class in Liverpool
two up two down, only heating was the coal fire in the living room.
no bathroom, outside toilet with tin bath hanging on a nail in the yard. They didnt get an inside loo until the 1980s
kitchen was a sink, cooker and a table, big pot of dripping for my grandads toast. washing drying on the ceiling pulley
smelt of coal fire and ciggies
my nan and her sisters watching the horses and wrestling on Saturday afternoon
If we were lucky Aunty Gin would read your tealeaves
my nan’s pinnys and tea dresses, her knitting bag and pile of Barbara Cartland/Catherine Cookson books
grandads false teeth in the top drawer of the sideboard