Gayga
My grandmother was called Gayga. Her name was Gladys but my mother called her Gay, and I think Gayga came about when I was little and Mum who liked making up names probably came up with it instead of Nanna or Grandma or Granny.
She was a very cool Grandmother. I guess not grandmotherly in the traditional sense. I loved being in her company, she was interesting and tolerant and funny. She was pretty attached to her own life, her friends and routines and habits and when I was with her these became a major part of the attraction in staying at her place.
She talked to me a lot about what I was doing and what I thought about things. I recall this now as being a shared conversation like the sort I now have as an adult, sharing ideas, listening to each other, rather than the ones I tend to associate with childhood where adults told me what to do, instructing me and or teaching me. Being with Gayga was meeting as two people with equal rights. Her way of being let me know she was aware of me and interested in what I had to say in a conversation or what I thought about things. My memories of being a child and talking to adults was that they did the talking, I was always quiet, silent, unless they asked me a question in which case I was probably scared to speak in case I got the answer wrong. All this was different when I was with Gayga. She was strong and quiet and lived on her own and had her own friends that I used to meet with her sometimes.
She was English, she came out to New Zealand to live about 1963 just after we'd moved to Whangarei. She bought a bach out at Urquharts Bay, and she lived there till she died in 1980.
In England she lived in a big house in Harlow called Barrows. I was born in this house because my parents lived with her at the time. My mother had gone to England at the age of eighteen in 1947 to study at the Royal Academy of Music on a scholarship. During the war Gayga had been evacuated to New Zealand with my Dad and his brother and their cousin and my parents two families had got to know each other before Mum and Dad were married. After the war Gayga and my father went back to England and my father went to London University to study law. My Grandparents divorced shortly after the war.
My Grandfather doesn't really feature in my life other than as a presence, someone I was proud of but who I never knew. He was a Professor of Law at London University and he was famous in legal circles as an author and an expert in jurisprudence. I guess the fact that Gayga was on her own from the time her sons were teenagers helped her to develop what I have only just realised was a very modern way of dealing with young people. She didn't ever judge us or lecture us. With me she was a guide and a mentor, someone I wanted to share things with.
In 1955 my parents came back to New Zealand. We lived in Lower Hutt at first then moved to Upper Hutt to a new house in McLeod Street after my brother was born. By 1962 there were four of us kids, me and my three brothers, and we had moved to Whangarei.
Living in Whangarei in the early days seems blessed to me now. It later became troubled but for a while we could bathe ourselves in the amazing natural playground of the north. The sun, the water, riding our bikes, cars, music, going to the beach with family and then with friends was something everyone did. The beaches were close by and beautiful and everyone spent time there. We spent weekends and holidays there and then later on through our teenage years we went to more distant beaches surfing and swimming.
Throughout this time Gayga was there. For years we all used to spend holidays and weekends at her place. We went fishing and would swim either straight out in front of her house or over the hill at Smugglers. In the winter I often went out there by myself and we would go for walks and read and eat yummy food that Gayga cooked. Reading is one of the things I loved doing with her. She used to read aloud to me, all sorts of things, Old Peter's Russian Tales is one book I remember and we used to read and talk about the Sunday Times supplement that she used to get sent regularly form England.
I loved sitting in her lounge on her big comfy couch with the green floral cushions looking out at the sea that I remember now as often being grey and choppy on the winter days we were on our own. I remember too gardening with her trying to help as she dug the clumpy, sticky clay up the back of her house to plant silverbeet. I also recall the hot hot summers we spent there and Mum and Gayga mowing her lawn at the front of her house which was a steep bank. They used to tie a rope around the handle of the mower and lower it down the bank and I remember them collapsing on the ground laughing as they both struggled to haul it back up the bank. There's a great photo somewhere of them taken sitting on the front lawn with the mower. We ate fish regularly caught by Dad and my youngest brother Matthew and ate cockles and pipi from low tide out in front. I remember Dad pouring vinegar over them and we ate them dripping standing out by the drystone wall at the back of her house. There was a sort of grill plate Dad used to cook the fish on too there and I remember this as the best fish I've ever eaten.
As we got older other things started being important in our lives but even as a teenager I know Gayga was an important influence for me. As a family my brothers and I had a lot to cope with living with a father who was irrational, an alcoholic manic depressive. Gayga was for me the person in my life who was steady and secure who I could be myself with. Being me during this time was not easy. Like many Catholic girls growing up in the 60s I was insecure and fearful about not being the person I thought I was supposed to be, add to this a father who was obsessed with his own demons and power struggles and a mother who was desperately trying to hold a family together and the need for another defining character in my life was essential. That we had Gayga was a sort of wonderful breathing space in my life, one that helped keep me attached and connected to the things that later became important to me.
She was a very cool Grandmother. I guess not grandmotherly in the traditional sense. I loved being in her company, she was interesting and tolerant and funny. She was pretty attached to her own life, her friends and routines and habits and when I was with her these became a major part of the attraction in staying at her place.
She talked to me a lot about what I was doing and what I thought about things. I recall this now as being a shared conversation like the sort I now have as an adult, sharing ideas, listening to each other, rather than the ones I tend to associate with childhood where adults told me what to do, instructing me and or teaching me. Being with Gayga was meeting as two people with equal rights. Her way of being let me know she was aware of me and interested in what I had to say in a conversation or what I thought about things. My memories of being a child and talking to adults was that they did the talking, I was always quiet, silent, unless they asked me a question in which case I was probably scared to speak in case I got the answer wrong. All this was different when I was with Gayga. She was strong and quiet and lived on her own and had her own friends that I used to meet with her sometimes.
She was English, she came out to New Zealand to live about 1963 just after we'd moved to Whangarei. She bought a bach out at Urquharts Bay, and she lived there till she died in 1980.
In England she lived in a big house in Harlow called Barrows. I was born in this house because my parents lived with her at the time. My mother had gone to England at the age of eighteen in 1947 to study at the Royal Academy of Music on a scholarship. During the war Gayga had been evacuated to New Zealand with my Dad and his brother and their cousin and my parents two families had got to know each other before Mum and Dad were married. After the war Gayga and my father went back to England and my father went to London University to study law. My Grandparents divorced shortly after the war.
My Grandfather doesn't really feature in my life other than as a presence, someone I was proud of but who I never knew. He was a Professor of Law at London University and he was famous in legal circles as an author and an expert in jurisprudence. I guess the fact that Gayga was on her own from the time her sons were teenagers helped her to develop what I have only just realised was a very modern way of dealing with young people. She didn't ever judge us or lecture us. With me she was a guide and a mentor, someone I wanted to share things with.
In 1955 my parents came back to New Zealand. We lived in Lower Hutt at first then moved to Upper Hutt to a new house in McLeod Street after my brother was born. By 1962 there were four of us kids, me and my three brothers, and we had moved to Whangarei.
Living in Whangarei in the early days seems blessed to me now. It later became troubled but for a while we could bathe ourselves in the amazing natural playground of the north. The sun, the water, riding our bikes, cars, music, going to the beach with family and then with friends was something everyone did. The beaches were close by and beautiful and everyone spent time there. We spent weekends and holidays there and then later on through our teenage years we went to more distant beaches surfing and swimming.
Throughout this time Gayga was there. For years we all used to spend holidays and weekends at her place. We went fishing and would swim either straight out in front of her house or over the hill at Smugglers. In the winter I often went out there by myself and we would go for walks and read and eat yummy food that Gayga cooked. Reading is one of the things I loved doing with her. She used to read aloud to me, all sorts of things, Old Peter's Russian Tales is one book I remember and we used to read and talk about the Sunday Times supplement that she used to get sent regularly form England.
I loved sitting in her lounge on her big comfy couch with the green floral cushions looking out at the sea that I remember now as often being grey and choppy on the winter days we were on our own. I remember too gardening with her trying to help as she dug the clumpy, sticky clay up the back of her house to plant silverbeet. I also recall the hot hot summers we spent there and Mum and Gayga mowing her lawn at the front of her house which was a steep bank. They used to tie a rope around the handle of the mower and lower it down the bank and I remember them collapsing on the ground laughing as they both struggled to haul it back up the bank. There's a great photo somewhere of them taken sitting on the front lawn with the mower. We ate fish regularly caught by Dad and my youngest brother Matthew and ate cockles and pipi from low tide out in front. I remember Dad pouring vinegar over them and we ate them dripping standing out by the drystone wall at the back of her house. There was a sort of grill plate Dad used to cook the fish on too there and I remember this as the best fish I've ever eaten.
As we got older other things started being important in our lives but even as a teenager I know Gayga was an important influence for me. As a family my brothers and I had a lot to cope with living with a father who was irrational, an alcoholic manic depressive. Gayga was for me the person in my life who was steady and secure who I could be myself with. Being me during this time was not easy. Like many Catholic girls growing up in the 60s I was insecure and fearful about not being the person I thought I was supposed to be, add to this a father who was obsessed with his own demons and power struggles and a mother who was desperately trying to hold a family together and the need for another defining character in my life was essential. That we had Gayga was a sort of wonderful breathing space in my life, one that helped keep me attached and connected to the things that later became important to me.
Comments
Post a Comment