Nanny

Dear Lucy,

Since Nanny - your lovely mum - left us, I’ve thought about her a lot, and about what a big impact she had, on everyone. She quietly connected everyone with a magic thread which has remained, holding you all together.

I love hearing you all talk about your ‘Nanny memories,’ there was a lot more to her than I knew.

I especially wish I'd known her better when she was younger. I didn’t spend much time at your house and when I did see her when we were in our 20s, she was just your mum, not an actual person, and then, off to London I went.

But I did get to know Nanny in the last six years or so since returning to Fleet and I wanted to share my memories and the lessons Nanny taught me.

Driving with Nanny

In my limited experience, there was nothing Nanny enjoyed more than a drive in the countryside or to the seaside. She looked and sounded so happy as she chatted about the scenery and how lovely it all was. 

She told me about trips out as a child, packing jam sandwiches and disappearing for the day. We talked about Christie and that yes, she still missed him. We both groaned when another bank holiday Monday loomed, the worst of days for those on their own. It was the only thing I ever heard Nanny be negative about (to be fair, I egged her on).

I honestly loved taking Nanny for a drive. She always said ‘thank you,’ as if I’d done her a favour, but without her, I wouldn’t have gone at all.

A couple of days ago, I decided to talk to Nanny on the way home from work even though she wasn't physically there. My commute happens to pass through what was one of our more regular routes. I made myself laugh as I repeated myself more loudly each time I said something. I think Nanny would have appreciated the humour in that. So I’m going to continue to keep taking Nanny along with me in the car, especially when I'm in the countryside.

“Do your best; do what you can do”

Once, when we were driving out past Odiham, I asked Nanny, “What would your advice be about life?” She probably thought, “Oh no Claire, not another question …” but she answered after a moment’s thought.

“I don’t know really,” she began. “I suppose you just have to do your best; just do what you can do.”

At the time, I thought, “Oh Nanny, is that the best you’ve got? After all the years you’ve been alive?”

Of course, a few years on, I have realised that Nanny’s advice is brilliant. It has layers, it is simple and unaffected, but most of all, it’s honest and true.

I even quoted it to one of my young team members at work the other day, crediting Nanny of course. She agreed that this was indeed good advice though she may have been humouring me, thinking to herself, “Oh Claire, is that the best you’ve got?!”

Lessons

Nanny showed me other things too, by just being her. I’d love to say ‘taught’ but I’ve always been a slow learner. I think most people would agree with these:

Grace and dignity

Nanny had the kind of grace and dignity an over-thinking, over-sharer like me can only dream of. But it was a pleasure to behold. I knew that, at times, she was in discomfort, but she would always say she was OK and never complain. I’ve since reflected on how this leaves space for empathy rather than it being a demand. I’ll do my best to remember this next time I have a strange feeling in my little finger and want absolutely everyone to know about it.

Moderation

Nanny was the queen of moderation. One chocolate here, a small slice of cake there, a half a glass of wine (mostly). I wonder if we’ll all try and channel her just a little when tempted to over-eat and drink. Perhaps. Perhaps not. We’ll just have to do our best.

Benny

Nanny was brilliant at Benny and, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Nanny almost always win? The legend of Benny is patchy and occasionally called into question but Nanny’s legacy won’t be. And on that subject …

Family

I used to say to Nanny when it was particularly noisy or chaotic at Sunday lunch with multiple generations talking over each other excitedly, “This is all your fault you know …” and she would laugh or give me a knowing smile. But what an impact to have made. To leave a genuinely loving and caring family, there to help each other through life's highs and lows. And what a gift to the world (and me) - you lot! 😀

I don't believe there is a greater achievement or a better legacy. And just think, Nanny did it all, just “Doing her best; just doing what she could do.”

RIP Nanny. You really mattered and you will be missed. x