A Grandmother's Wisdom: Lessons learnt at my Nan's knee

By Catriona Rowntree

A sweet and inspirational memoir, about the special relationship between the star of Getaway and her beloved grandmother.

Catriona Rowntree loves her Nan. She grew up in the same household and it was to this wise, loving woman that the young Catriona took all her worries and joys. Always there was a sympathetic ear and advice worth following. And as Catriona grew up, left home, started her media career, found and lost boyfriends, met her future husband, married and fell pregnant - her Nan's words of encouragement, warmth and love helped to guide Catriona's behaviour and choices, and they continue to do so.

In My Nan and Me, Catriona shares her Nan's homespun wisdom, based on the experiences of a lifetime. Heartfelt and funny with a straight-talking edge, this is a book to treasure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allen & Unwin
• Release date: Mar 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781742694993

Book preview

A Grandmother’s Wisdom

A Grandmother’s Wisdom

Lessons learnt at my Nan’s knee

CATRIONA ROWNTREE

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First published in 2013

Copyright © Catriona Rowntree 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin

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Australia

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Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available

from the National Library of Australia

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ISBN 978 1 74237 796 4

Internal design by Kirby Stalgis

Set in 12.5/19.5 pt Sabon by Midland Typesetters, Australia

Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

9781742694993_0004_002

Table of Contents

Introduction

I’d like to introduce you to my Nan

Be careful who you listen to, darling

Not everyone’s going to like you

But you’re good at everything, darling

Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want to see on the front page of the Herald

Hand me your credit card and get the scissors

You’d better snap that boy up before the other girls do

I only ever wanted you to be happy

Follow your heart and you can’t go wrong

You’re only a short time engaged, treasure every moment

Enjoy being a newlywed, as you’re a parent for life

Just keep on going, darling

Fortune is found in family

I love you too, darling

What will be your legacy?

My Nan’s words of wisdom

Introduction

This book was nearly never written. It took quite a bit of convincing for both Nan and I to even contemplate that what we had to say, that our symbiotic relationship, would be of interest to anyone. First, I was unaware I referred so often to Nan’s advice. I had to be shown the countless interviews where I regularly made mention of her, to actually acknowledge ‘Hmm, I suppose I do mention her a bit’. My friends thought a book was the most logical idea in the world ‘You’re always raving on about Nan’s advice, I’d love to read it.’ Really? Ok then.

For Nan, she was flummoxed and thought we’d have trouble filling even a single page on the wisdom she’d passed on. ‘I’ve only ever said I want you to be happy. How’s that going to make a book?’ ‘You’ll get there,’ assured our publisher. ‘Think of the person you’d like to write for and go from there.’

And that’s where it all crystallised. We came up with the goal to create a guide for my nieces, Nan’s great granddaughters. They adored Nan, but didn’t get to spend as much time with her as I’d had the blessing of. I had Nan’s ‘Cheat Notes on Life’ on tap. Got a problem? Rock on into the tele room, de-brief with Nan, bing! Dilemma solved. That’s pretty much how Nan and I rolled.

But my nieces had teenagedom looming, which not only had their mum freaking out but us too. I’d often sympathise ‘If only they had Nan to help them, in the way that I did, life’d be so much easier’. It may not save them from heartbreak, but it might mean fewer tears.

So, after asking for the permission of my Mum and aunt to share Nan’s stories I thought I’d rack up my chapter headings in no time with the advice that Nan had passed on.

Now, having decided to write about my Nan, I have to work out how to find the right words, to describe on paper, the beautiful relationship which exists the world over between a grandparent and their grandchild. Somehow the oft used throwaway line uttered about grandparents’ love: ‘You love ’em even more because you know you can hand ’em back’, seems a little crude here. I can’t speak for others or claim to articulate anyone else’s unique relationship and bond with their grandparent. I can only speak about my own Nan and my relationship with her.

Actually, you know what? I can sum it up or, at least, I do know some words that come close. They’re on a postcard—possibly the world’s daggiest—that I sent to my Nan some years back. I was missing her painfully after a long work trip away in England. In the heart of the divine Cotswold countryside, surrounded by so many gorgeous things I knew Nan would love, I found this card gathering dust in a gift shop in Stratford-upon-Avon. Despite the card being clichéd, this was serious Shakespeare country, so surely that should give the card some cred. Okay, maybe not, but I still remember the joy of finding this card, thrilled at its accuracy in reflecting my feelings and knowing how much Nan would love it when she received it back home. On one side there was space to write tidbits about your holiday, and on the other was a space to pop a photo of your beloved next to a poem illustrated with sweet peas.

To A Special Nan

I know that I am blessed

To have a Nan like you

You always take an interest

In everything I do

You’re loving and so thoughtful

You’re gentle and so kind

I love you and a better Nan

I could not hope to find.

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Yes, I know, it’s more saccharine sweet than a bowl of sugar, but just stay with me on this. I have the sort of relationship with my grandmother where the thought always counts. When Nan received that card it was given the highest honour: it went straight from the mailbox to the bedside table! Nan loved it and it’s had pride of place in her room ever since the postman delivered it.

And c’mon, don’t you think the sentiment is spot on? Grandparents do seem so genuinely interested in the minutiae of their little ones’ lives. Whereas mums and dads constantly have their attention diverted and you always seem to feel their parental judgement. Not the case with my Nan, no way; she’s always there listening, forever sitting on the fence offering plenty of free hugs to boot.

So, now I’ve set myself up as a complete dag and revealed my postcard poem, let’s get into the story . . . oh and Nan’s tips, of course.

I’d like to

introduce you to my Nan

I want to share with you a little bit of my Nan’s story. After all, as I’m claiming ‘World’s Best Nan’ status for her, you’ll want to know why she deserves that exalted title.

There were certainly a few elements to her life that set her apart, beginning with her name. It’s a conversation starter if ever there was one. To this day I’ve never heard of another Riria. The most placid woman you’d ever have the good fortune to meet was given a name that means anger in the Maori language. I don’t think a person’s demeanour could ever be so mismatched to a name. Nan’s mum had known a little local girl back in Auckland, New Zealand, who was the sweetest child she’d ever met and vowed that if ever she were blessed with a daughter of her own, Riria would be her name, too. Thanks very much, Mum!

Nan was born on the auspicious day of Black Friday the thirteenth, in the twelfth month of 1912. Heavens to Betsy, what a welcome to the world. Apparently, when Nan’s parents proudly walked her down the street through the flower-filled suburb of Parnell to the cathedral to be christened, the next-door neighbour yelled out, ‘You better give that poor child a nice middle name like Joy, to equal out the horrible first name.’ Good on the neighbour, I say. Joy would have been far more appropriate for my Nan.

By the afternoon, Riria Joy Whitley had been given the nod by the good Lord himself, hallelujah. And I’m happy to let you know that her ‘angry’ name had no influence on her character. In fact, Riria went on to reveal, through the force of her angelic personality, that kindness and good fortune would be her trademark personality traits.

Before I continue, I think it’s worth saying that the only way I can ever remember Nan referring to her family is with a smile on her face and pure love in her voice. Wouldn’t you love to be described like that? The impression given to me of her early days has seemed to me altogether golden.

Nan arrived into the world during the halcyon days of New Zealand, only a couple of years before World War One, to hardworking and kind-hearted parents. Fred and Evelyn Whitley were both calm and happy individuals who, blessed with a happy home and two healthy children, felt they did not want for anything. I suppose it was a simpler time, when that was all that mattered. In fact, Nan would say that that’s still all that really matters.

Nan grew up right next door to her own paternal grandmother, with her mum’s parents a little further up the street, just near the now famous Parnell Rose Gardens, overlooking the Auckland Harbour. I believe that the seed of knowing how to be a beautiful grandmother grew from the daily example of her own. On