Grannies aren't what they were. An old-timer used to tell of the years after his grandmother, then widowed, sold her minute farm (at the height of the economic war with Britain) and came up to the big city, where her son and daughter lived with their families. She stayed most of her years with her daughter and, for the first time, met some of the more outlying relatives.
One was home briefly from a minor job in the Civil Service in London - better dressed than most of his relations and speaking very politely. She looked at him with satisfaction and said, "I'll warrant you've money in the bank, Mr C." She had money in the bank too, and for everyday purposes kept a considerable number of notes (these were the days when a pound was a pound, or a punt, if you like) in a cloth bag in her ample bosom, with a string around her neck to haul it up when needed.
She couldn't acknowledge it to her daughter, but she shared with her son-in-law a liking for a wee drop now and then. So when he put his head round the door of her bedroom and said he was off to the office, she would, once or twice a week, haul up this bag from her bosom and say something like "One for you and one for me." The "one" was usually a naggin of whiskey. She knew her daughter disapproved and so it had to be half clandestine. But the daughter, presumably, had to deal with the empties. The theatricals were in vain.
She knew, of course, all about hens and eggs and vegetables and would wonder aloud how her family in the city could put up with such second-hand fare. Her son, who was a sporting type, used to assuage her longings for the fare of the countryside by bringing in, from time to time, some new-laid eggs from the country or a bird or two he had shot or even a trout or two to remind her of the life she had lost.
She claimed odd powers or wisdom. She believed she knew at once when anyone of her family had died, no matter where. When her eldest son was killed in France in the first World War, she told us she woke up her husband and said: "John's here." And the next day got official confirmation that he had died.
She was not a tall woman, but heavy and slow of movement. She seldom stirred from the house. Nowadays, grannies play golf, maybe "work out" in health clubs, and don't have to hide a liking for whiskey.