Someone gave it to Aunt Mabel, who died in 1918, and then Grandma got it. She was about 13 years old.

It's on an oval table my grandmother gave me.

If you are playing in 'Charley's Aunt,' and your favourite aunt died that lunchtime, you'll still have to go on the stage and play 'Charley's Aunt.'

Sometimes the Kenyans win, sometimes I win. We run together. I respect them, but I am not afraid of them.

Your grandma is a magician. Remember that time when you fell off your bicycle and she lifted you up onto the kitchen counter? She cleaned your bloody knees, washed the tears and snot off your face, told you funny stories and tickled your stomach until you giggled so hard it made you hiccup. The tears, the blood, the pain, your mum’s closed bedroom door—all vanished, as if your grandma had waved a wand—sim sala bim! Hard to keep your smile off your face now, no? She did such things. Still does. A trickster, she is. Always full of pranks and laughter. Like now, looking so wrinkled and pale in her bed, not responding. Bet she opens her eyes any moment now with that mischievous grin of hers, pleased she fooled you. You’ll both double over in laughing fits. Any moment now.
From: "Grandma's Tricks", In-flight literary magazine issue 4 2015

Handwritten sign on my refrigerator from my grandson, Christopher, "I have two Grandmas and your one of my favroites."