My husband had a grandmother classic, isnt it? Hed spend every summer at her place. Not that she minded. In those days, she ran her own little business. Did everything by herself, even used to sell medicinal herbs to the local chemists. My husband never really figured out how she managed it all, but he does remember that, by the standards back then, she was raking it in.
She was quite a character, that woman. Dotty about my husband, wouldnt bat an eye at spending money on a proper Sunday roast, but if he asked for a few quid to go for an ice cream or the arcade, forget it. The entire family reckoned she must be saving up for something big. Her house was full of these great big wardrobes with dozens of little drawers, every single one locked up tighter than the crown jewels.
As a boy, my husband was forever trying to nose about in the cupboards, desperate to see what was hidden away. And always, the same answer: All for work, dear! But times changed, didnt they? Suddenly everyone and his dog was setting up shop competition swept her right off. After that, she reinvented herself as a healer of sorts. Never charged a penny for her mysterious skills, yet somehow she had the wealthiest people queuing up for her attention.
Wed go and visit whilst she was still alive and kicking. Shed be living so frugally it was almost an art form tatty clothes, eating meals that barely qualified as meals. Wed bring her proper groceries, but shed just turn up her nose. Dont start spoiling me,” shed say, “Im quite set in my ways.
When she passed and left my husband her cottage, we went round to sort out the usual post-mortem muddle. Popped open the larder absolutely brimming with food, but every single tin and packet was long past its use-by. Turns out all those grateful clients had been dropping off the best of everything, but she never so much as touched it.
But the real whopper came when we finally managed to open up those legendary cupboards. Inside was an unbelievable heap of pricey bits and bobs from the ’90s enough to start a private museum of questionable taste. Wardrobe after wardrobe, all stuffed to bursting. Why on earth did she hoard her money in things doomed to lose value? Ill never get my head round that woman, but she certainly kept life interesting.
