I grew up near my father’s parents, and in the summer we would all spend a lot of time together at the summer-house. (In Norway it is quite common to have a summer-house or mountain cottage, where you spend your weekends and holidays.)
My mother’s mum died before I was born, and my mother’s father lived far away. We didn’t see much of him, unfortunately.
But although we saw my father’s parents quite a lot, I felt a slight distance to them. I always felt the need to behave perfectly around them.
I remember that on Saturdays, when I would be allowed to watch a bit of children’s telly, I would walk across the little yard, knock on my grandparents door (which was usually wide open) and ask nicely if I may be allowed to watch that half hour of telly. (more…)