We have our own Granny Weatherwax in our family.

Growing up my mum often spoke of her own childhood and we got a glimpse of a different time. Mum was brought up in a farming village where post war rationing was still a thing. She spoke of being taken around the village in her pram, cuts of meat hidden under her to be delivered to the different houses. It was a close knit community and everyone knew everyone and outsiders were just that, outsiders, not part of the village.

(Mum at my brothers wedding.)

Quite a few of her stories were about Granny Taylor, a 5 foot giant of a woman who would hold court in the kitchen of her cottage. She had been married to the village blacksmith, a man how stood at over 6 feet tall but would be too scared to go home if he had a few beers. From the stories told I found that Granny Taylor was my own families real life version of Granny Weatherwax from Terry Pratchett's Discworld stories, even down to the magic.

Readers of the Discworld will know Granny Weatherwax always insisted that a witches magic wasn't always down to doing magic. Granny Taylor had the gift, it seemed to run down the female side of the family. She had a teapot that was started fresh each day with a spoonful of tea leaves for each cup and a spoonfull for the pot. This ritual was repeated for each new pot of tea brewed as the day wore on. By the end of the day the tea was so thick you could stand your teaspoon up in what came out of the spout.

Now Granny Taylor never had a surprise caller to her cottage, she had plenty of unanounced callers from family or villagers but she was never suprised. Every time she would have boiled the kettle and set out the cups and saucers so when they knocked on the door and entered a cup of tea would be ready for them. She was never caught out and always had the right number of teacups out for visitors.

Another thing about her was she cast a giant shadow, she either liked people of she let them know she didn't. People wanted to be liked as most people wanted to be on her good side as she could be a right scarey old woman. To mum and her brothers she was a towering presence in their life after the loss of their mum early in their life. My dad got her seal of approval because he wans't in awe of her but laughed.

Going back to the magic, or gift...
My Mum called it more of a curse. She didn't know who was coming around unanounced but would be cooking food within minutes every time I turned up with friends unanounced. Mums gift was she always knew when something bad was going to happen, she would dream of it in the days before. On the week when my eldest brother snapped his ankle playing football, my other brothers was in a car hit by a bus and I was burnt while hiking when a meths burner exploded she had nighmares about us.

I always ment to sit down with her and ask her to tell me all the stories so I could write them down, of the time she went for a bag a chips and missed the bus that crashed or a hundred other stories of days gone. I didn't get the chance as mum was taken very sudden and all those memories are now lost or only half remembered as stories she told me.