Be The Plot Twist

Reading (noun) – The act of reading.  

Well, that’s a disappointing definition… I mean… you go to the dictionary to find out what reading means, and it’s like… Reading is reading. Yeah, but what is reading? Reading is just reading! It’s just reading. Thats it. Reading is the act of reading.  

Anyway. It’s time to get serious. Normally, I have this defense mechanism, a bit like Chandler in Friends. Humour. When things get a bit ropey, I make a joke. Humour makes me feel comfortable. But this topic, for me, is a serious one. So, if you’re here solely for the laughs, I apologise, because this one’s a tearjerker for me! 

I like reading.  

Infact no, that’s severely downplaying it.  

I love reading.  

When I was little, I used to sit on my Granddad’s knee in his chair, and he would read stories to me. Owl Babies, Rosie’s Babies, Little Beaver and The Echo, Roald Dahls Revolting Rhymes. We would read the same books over, and over, and over again, to the point where I knew every word off by heart. Granddad would point to the words as he read, and I would say them along with him, associating the spoken word to what was on the page at his fingertip. We would laugh when Little Red Riding Hood whips the pistol from her knickers in Roald Dahls Revolting Rhymes. We would feel sad when the Owl Babies were scared of the dark. And that is how I learned to read.  

Whenever I read a book now, I have those memories tucked away in my head and heart, and it never fails to make me feel better. My grandparents are my safe space. They were there for me through everything. My family is great, but my grandparents are epic. They encouraged me with 2 of my favourite things in the world. My Nan took me to piano lessons, and Granddad taught me to read. And having those memories with them is everything. It’s something that will last, even after they’re gone. Something I’ll never forget. 

I started off reading the same things as every kid. Characters like Biff, Chip and Kipper filled the pages. But soon I was moving on to Goosebumps and The Story of Tracey Beaker. One book I remember loving was The Illustrated Mum by Jacqueline Wilson. I thought it was amazing that this girls mum had so many tattoos, just like mine. And that made it an instant favourite. Then came Harry Potter, followed by Lord of the Rings.  

Once I’d had my fill of those, I went hunting on my mum’s bookshelf. And there, hidden amongst Billy Blanks’ Tae Bo workout VHS’s and Jean Claude Van Damm films, I discovered Dick Francis. I read them all, multiple times at the age of 13. Probably wasn’t meant to (Sorry Mum), but I was hooked. And that lead me on to reading about True Crime, and Real-Life Ghost Stories. (A book about Lizzie Borden the axe murderer was a particular favourite of mine.)  

Once I got to my mid-teen years, I started noticing boys. Yeah, boys. They were suddenly very interesting, and not at all smelly as previously believed. I went to Waterstones on a rare day out in town with my friends and purchased a copy of The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks. The story of Noah and Allie’s love, beating all the odds, filled me with hope and belief. And so, my love for romance novels began.  

The words written on the page, sparked something in my soul and lit it on fire. The longing for a love like the epic romances I read about, determined what I wanted in my future. And they led me back in a full circle, to two of the most wonderful, romantic, real-life stories that I know. My Grandparents and their best friends.  

One day in 1958, John A and John B went to watch a swimming gala. As they sat watching from the stands, John A’s eyes landed on a girl stood at the poolside. He leaned over to his best friend and said ‘Look at those sexy legs, I’m going to ask her out.’ 

A few weeks later, Margaret and Maude decided to go for dance lessons at their local dance hall. When they arrived, they were paired up with 2 young men by the names of John A and John B. They tried their best to listen to the instructor, but the young mens jovial natures and flirtatious comments made it difficult. They met there every week, and danced together as partners, and eventually, John A and John B were successful in their efforts to court Margaret and Maude. 

Margaret would tell her parents she was going to Maude’s house, and secretly go out and meet John A, as she was terrified of her parents finding out about her relationship. Maude’s mother happily covered for her.  

One night, she was saying goodbye to John on the corner, when she saw her father walking down the road toward them. He stopped further down, turned around and went home. Margaret decided it was time to go home and face the music. When John offered to go home with her to make sure she was ok, Margaret declined and made her way back to the house.  

‘Was that Maude on the corner with a lad?’ asked her father.  

‘No, it wasn’t Maude’ said Margaret, but she didn’t have the confidence to tell him that it was her.  

Then on Christmas day, John A turned up at her door. Her father was so annoyed, but Margaret’s grandmother told him to ‘Stop being stupid, they’re only friends. Let him in.’ 

And he did.  

John had bought a present for her, a heart shaped silk handkerchief in a box. And Margaret knew then that she was in love.  

Over the years, John A was always late for their dates with no explanation, and Margaret always said she never knew why she waited for him, but she did. The 2 Johns always called her ‘sexy legs’, another thing she never understood. Until I asked them both about this story.  

You see, the woman at the poolside during the swimming gala, who John A said he was going to ask out… That was Margaret. 

He knew, from that day, that he was going to end up with her. And he made it happen. From the fated meeting at the dance studio, to the grand gesture on Christmas day with the silk handkerchief. He always knew.  

They had children, who had children, who had children. John B and Maude’s granddaughter, is now my closest and longest friend. And our children are friends. Friendships that span generations. Love that survives decades. Bonds that can never be broken.  

And now, 60 years down the line, my incredible grandparents are still together. Their best friends stayed together too, but sadly, earlier this year, we lost John. Their love stood the test of time. And even now, while my Granddad is in a home for the elderly, and my Nan is in their marital home, she misses him with her whole heart and visits him as often as she’s able. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. ‘Til death do us part.  

Their stories, rival the ones we read about in novels. The ones we dream of happening to us. The meet-cutes, the home, the marriage, the children and the happy endings. None of this dating app or speed dating malarkey, just a genuine connection. A spark, growing into a life-long love. A love worthy of having its story told.  

That is the kind of love I want, and I will never settle for less. 

So, this week, I want to ask you about your inspirations. I want to hear about the most epic real-life romances you know. Whether it’s yours, your best friends, your grandparents or your neighbours. Drop a comment on here or on social media and share the stories with us all.  

Now, I’m going to go and call my Nan for one of our 2-hour long phone calls where we put the world to rights and tell her how much I love and appreciate her.  

Because without my Nan and Granddad, I wouldn’t be who I am today.  

So, switch up the narrative, rewrite the script, and maybe we can actually be the plot twist. 

Love ya. x