My Grandad ...... even more

When I was really small we didn’t do this so I spent the day in his house, I don’t remember ever playing out with the local children.
His garden was a magical place to play in anyway – lots of places to hide and play ‘pretending’ games, by myself of course!! His back room had French widows and steps down onto a small paved area, with a greenhouse full of Geraniums to the left and a lean to (Garage) on the right side. Straight ahead were three steps which led down into the garden and the cinder path. This path was edged by bricks and was made out of the cinders from the coal fire in Grandad’s house. Every day new ashes were laid onto this path, filling in dips and levelling it out as it ran round a small island two thirds of the way down and then on down to the bottom of the garden. At the bottom of the garden there was a small brook, it was the border between Birmingham City and the County Borough of Solihull. It was dry mostly (only running after the rain) and sometimes I would cross it to play with the little girl who visited her grandparents opposite. Also at the bottom of the path was a telegraph pole around which grew Loganberries which were delicious, like raspberries but golden white, much larger and sweeter. I was always told not to eat them but …………. I was a child, right down at the bottom of the garden ………!
Grandad loved his geraniums but I hated them, they smelt and the place was full of spiders!!! If you can imagine a small green house about 3ft wide and 6ft long with a pointy roof about 6ft at highest with very large pots placed all round the edges. As these pots were never moved, the geraniums were exceedingly large, growing into every corner of the place, the only time anyone went in there – to my knowledge – was to open the window at the top or to water the plants. I couldn’t reach the window so I was often asked to water them, oh! the smell, how I hated it but ............ I now realise that a lot of the things I did was in fact to keep me out of the way so that Mam could get on with the cleaning and to leave them in peace to chat.
Mam and Dad thought the world of Grandad, Dad calling him Pops. He was very caring with both my grandparents, treating them with respect and love. After Dad died Mam told me that he never knew his father and his mother very cruel and beat her children often. My grandparents were really the first parents that my Dad knew so that explained why he cared. I know that he was loved very much and respected by my Grandad, well he must’ve been for them to let him take their one and only daughter to the other side of the world! Grandad played the accordion and I always sat at his feet for this as I held his music sheets.