One day last week I walked to work, thankfully it was not raining, as we headed into a cooler phase before the rain came back again.

Ahead of me I spotted two teenage girls, probably about 13 years old or so, dressed in a school uniform with bulging rucksacks standing with an elderly lady who was holding a purse. The lady extracted something, probably money and handed it to one of the girls, who in turn gave the lady a hug and a kiss on the cheek. The girls walked on, possibly to school and the lady in the opposite direction.

Image courtesy of Google

My mind cast back to three decades ago, when my Grandmother would often pass me a pound note, yes they were pound notes then not coins and tell me to get myself something. Even in my teenage years I would save the money and buy a book.

I loved nothing more than heading to Smiths in the High Street and wandering along the bookshelves and every so often bringing a book, lovingly selected home.

The memories kept me company as I continued my short journey and I was acutely aware of how much I miss my Grandmother, her wisdom, practicality, laughter and presence. Her ability to simply be aware when something was wrong or troubling me. I miss being able to talk with her and discuss my decisions and share a joke or two.