Читать книгу Hard Cuddles - James Harding - Страница 8

NANNA AND GRAMPS

‘There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved’

— George Sand

I can still smell their house. My earliest memories include them. My feelings towards these people cannot be described in words. The two of them were angels put on earth to make other people’s lives easier. I hope everyone else has the same overwhelming feeling when they talk about their grandparents. Mine were amazing.

There were many times when I was in trouble as a little person and having Nanna and Gramps living in the next street was a chance to escape from it all. I was safe there.

Someone had given me an old suitcase and it was perfect for a toddler: there was enough room for a book, my teddy bear and another toy. This was neatly packed and on standby near my bedroom door. Any time I felt my mother was completely out of line with her decision making or punishment, I would grab the suitcase and off I went. It is fair to say, I spent a lot of time around at their place.

Their backyard was massive with a vegetable patch and all sorts of fruit trees in it. In the corner near his shed was Gramps’ prized avocado tree, standing prouder than a honeymooner’s dick. Gramps really put the hours into it. He would often go out there and just stare at it, very much the way my Dad stares at Colorbond roofs.

My grandparents were born in Ceylon, now the beautiful island of Sri Lanka. We are what you call burghers—or fair-skinned Sri Lankans with Dutch surnames, due to our Dutch heritage. Gramps used to tell me some amazing stories about his life in Ceylon. My grandparents had a unique way of communicating. They had a certain place where they would meet where there was a big piece of cardboard. My grandpa would write my Nanna love notes on the ground with a rock and cover it with the cardboard. Gramps was very good-looking and spoke three languages: Singhalese, English and Latin. A highly educated man, he had a really eccentric way and loved to talk to people about their lives and financial situations. If you walked past his house, he would demand to know what you brought him or how much you were earning. He thought this was the height of good humour—to put people on the spot. He had a Norton motorcycle and was quite the man about town. His brother, Gem, was an entrepreneurial businessman who started tourism in Ceylon. Gem got up to all sorts of illegal shit and at one point smuggled gold to and from India. Gem also owned some of the original hotels in that beautiful country. The other brother, Earl, was the strongest man in Ceylon. He worked on the railroads and was able to bend a coin over on itself with his thumb and forefinger. Earl was a hippie and back then often wore a flower in his hair. He was also an artist and did what he liked, wandering around the country to the beat of his own drum.

Gramps had an obsession with England and anything English: cars, clothes, the monarchy, he even followed the English cricket team. If we saw a Jag driving down the street, he would point at it and say ‘tops’. Gramps took me to the TAB and showed me how to bet when I was about twelve. We spent a lot of time together and it was never boring.

Nanna, on the other hand, could be very fiery and had a habit of faking illnesses if things didn’t go her way. Gramps was a tight-arse and they would always fight over money. You knew if you saw Gramps in his chair with his chin resting on his chest he was in the dog house. Nanna was the best cook; it didn’t matter if there were two or twenty people around there for lunch, as there often was. Gramps was treated like a bloody king at lunchtime every day. He would go and sit himself at the head of his table and wait. Nanna would produce the most amazing curries and all the bits and pieces that accompanied it. You could smell it from down the street. There were always people there and Gramps would hold court. He was capable of talking on any topic, but his real passion was to talk nonsense and he was really talented at it. Nanna was always telling him off for talking crap. You see, the stars aligned for me, I was born just when Gramps retired. He was a very stressed out sort of character before that, from what I am told. I never got to see that side of him. Occasionally he would reverse the white Valiant Charger out and we would go for a drive. All this time spent with such a wordsmith helped me hone my communication skills and he would teach me how to speak like an adult. Gramps would also chat with me about adult topics: politics, finance and world news. He loved it when I shared my opinion.

One Sunday afternoon when I was at their house with my young cousins, we went next door to their neighbour’s house. The neighbours weren’t home, so I decided to destroy the joint. I started smashing pot plants and throwing things into their pool. My cousins joined in and we had a really good time. For some reason it didn’t occur to us that we would be identified as the culprits. Later that week my parents questioned me and it was revealed that my cousins had accused me of being the ringleader, so I was given a sound thrashing. My cousins were very good at putting me in it. Their mother had it in for me, she couldn’t bear to think that her boys were capable of that sort of behaviour. So blaming me became a consistent theme when I was growing up.

Often Gramps would wander up to our primary school right on lunchtime to buy my sister and I whatever we wanted from the tuckshop. Gramps would ask us if one of our friends wanted something as well. It was hilarious—when the kids would see my Gramps coming towards the school, they ran after my sister and me, keen to forge a quick friendship. What a bunch of fuck-knuckles they were, sucking up to the two of us in a desperate play to get some sweets.

With most of Dad’s side now passed away and him being an only child, I was raised with a proper Sri Lankan upbringing. This comes as a big surprise to most people, including my wife. It wasn’t till I took her to a family party did she understand the full extent of how Sri Lankan I was.

My time spent with Gramps most definitely helped form strong communication patterns. He never spoke to me like a child. It was extremely enjoyable to be asked for my opinion by such an educated man. Gramps enjoyed telling anyone who would listen that I was going to be a politician.