My Grandma was 100 yesterday (3rd Jan 2013), she suffers with dementia and isn’t really aware of who I am, or who anyone is really. There are wee glimmers of a previous Granny sometimes, but they are fleeting.

My Granddad looked after my Grandma until he was 95, when she was eventually too much for him, and she was resettled in a care home.

After my Dad died, I vowed to get to know more about my Grandparents, and after my Grandma moved, I sat with Granddad North and talked all about their early years together.

A beautiful insight into my Granddad’s early life, a first date in Scarborough with Grandma…

If you still have your gramps around, go talk to them, not just about today, the weather and the usual tripe, really talk to em. Because on days like yesterday, I genuinely find myself grateful to look upon my Granny not as a 100 year old, but as a wee girl holding hands with my Granddad, strolling along the beach, wondering what life they had ahead of them.

And here I am decade up on decade later, grateful for that wee stroll that flowered love, that gave me my father, and now my own child.