Nana? Nan? Gran? What do you / did you call your grandmother ?

[Coco]

Just curious about the different names that are used in other parts of the world.

Also, Id like to know the best memory, funny story, or best advice you got from your grandmother or grandfather if youd be kind enough to share.

As I get older I realize how funny and wise mine were, and I was too young too appreciate most of it.

[Lizard]

I had a “grandma” and a “gran.” I don’t remember much about them because they both died when I was quite young. I didn’t have names for my grandfathers because one died a couple of months before I was born and the other when I was 1 year old.

None of my grandparents lived past age 63, which didn’t give them much time to pass on any wisdom (and doesn’t bode well for me...)

[Big D]

Just curious about the different names that are used in other parts of the world.

Also, Id like to know the best memory, funny story, or best advice you got from your grandmother or grandfather if youd be kind enough to share.

As I get older I realize how funny and wise mine were, and I was too young too appreciate most of it.

I'm in Scotland. I call both mine Gran.

My boys have one Scottish and One Northern Irish parent so they call my Mum "Gran" and their Norn Irish one "Granny" which seems normal over there. But then grown Woman still call their Mum "Mummy".

[SerjeantWildgoose]

I called my grandmothers 'Gran' and my grandfathers 'Grandad'. I hardly knew my paternal grandmother but spent a lot of time with my paternal grandfather. The best piece of advice he ever gave me was, "Never trust the Germans," understandable since he'd fought them twice.

I knew both my maternal grandparents who, despite a tough life and, in the case of my grandad, the ravages of TB lived to a relatively ripe old age (Which would account for the smell). My gran was a pretty strict aul dear and I suppose the best piece of advice she ever gave me was, "Take another piece of that cake and I'll flay the hide off yer arse." I took no more cake. My maternal grandad, through gulps of bottled oxygen, told me to make sure I never worked down the pit. It did for him and it did for his youngest son, so I suppose it was wise enough advice. My father went further and told me the place I was fetched up held no future and to get out. I did.

My sons have never called me and the Mrs by anything other than our given names (Embelished on occasion with the odd expletive, no doubt). Mrs WG calls her ma 'Mammy,' and the boys call her Nana. I call her Ma'am.

[Mikey Brown]

I called my grandmothers 'Gran' and my grandfathers 'Grandad'. I hardly knew my maternal grandmother but spent a lot of time with my maternal grandfather. The best piece of advice he ever gave me was, "Never trust the Germans," understandable since he'd fought them twice.

I knew both my maternal grandparents who, despite a tough life and, in the case of my grandad, the ravages of TB lived to a relatively ripe old age (Which would account for the smell). My gran was a pretty strict aul dear and I suppose the best piece of advice she ever gave me was, "Take another piece of that cake and I'll flay the hide off yer arse." I took no more cake. My maternal grandad, through gulps of bottled oxygen, told me to make sure I never worked down the pit. It did for him and it did for his youngest son, so I suppose it was wise enough advice. My father went further and told me the place I was fetched up held no future and to get out. I did.

My sons have never called me and the Mrs by anything other than our given names (And the odd expletive no doubt). Mrs WG calls her ma 'Mammy,' and the boys call her Nana. I call her Ma'am.

This is incredibly alarming.

[SerjeantWildgoose]

We're quite the hippy family. It used to drive my mother ballistic. When the youngest gosling tried calling her Moira, she went through the fecking thatch!

[Stones of granite]

I'm from the West of Scotland. I had two grannies and two papa's (grandfathers). The only pieces of advice I remember came from my Ayrshire grandparents.
1. Never trust a tinker, they'll steal the milk out your tea and come back for the sugar (grannie W)
2. A wee dab of Famous Grouse on your head before bed will make the hair grow back (papa W)

I suspect that one of them wasn't being entirely truthful.

ETA: In light of the Serje's post I'd add, Papa W died before I went to live amongst the boche, which in a way is fortunate, as he had also fought them once, and was within earshot of Clydebank the second time, so I'm pretty sure that he would have had some choice words to share.

Edited again: I should have explained how we pronounced papa. It was with even emphasis on both syllables and a very short “ah” sound, not the pretentious “pah-paaaaah”.

[morepork]

I barely knew my maternal set, and never met my paternal set, because my family are fucking mutants. I will take whatever the epigenetic environment has in store for me with my chin thrust forward and my hair blowing manfully in the breeze.

[Galfon]

Grandma (with a silent 'd' ), that's Midlands with a Northern Gran.I hear Nana used locally in the North West.
We used Grandad for ours referring to my Dad which annoyed him a bit because he preferred Grandpa that was assigned by my brethren for theirs, ( Grandad was used by the maternal side with theirs.)
Never knew my Grandads (paternal side indirect casualty of WW1, maternal side PoW casualty in Singapore WW2, he only signed up after losing his kid brother to a U-Boot commander who was not to be trusted in Scapa Flo, circa 1940.)
My Grandma produced the best Lancashire hot-pot, Eccles cakes and Fruit cake I've ever tasted.Never failed.

[Buggaluggs]

Knocker nanny, because she had a door knocker, and ding-dong nanny because she was fancy and had a door bell.

[morepork]

Knocker nanny, because she had a door knocker, and ding-dong nanny because she was fancy and had a door bell.

Fond memories of Flaps Nanny, wot lived in a tent.

[Lizard]

I had a “grandma” and a “gran.” I don’t remember much about them because they both died when I was quite young. I didn’t have names for my grandfathers because one died a couple of months before I was born and the other when I was 1 year old.

None of my grandparents lived past age 63, which didn’t give them much time to pass on any wisdom (and doesn’t bode well for me...)

Alright, alright - just so you don't think we were shirking over here in His Majesty's Dominions, I should add that the grandfather who lived past my birth was in the 19th Armoured Division of 2NZEF, mostly chasing Germans up Italy in a Sherman tank.

My other grandfather was a dairy farmer. Although dairy farming was not officially an "essential industry", farmers tended not to be conscripted in order to keep the Empire supplied with butter and so forth. (By July 1940, the only way to join the NZ Army was by conscription - volunteering was not permitted). He also had an alarming range of obscure health issues, which is why he died at 59 before I was born. Later in life he used to go blind in winter for no apparent reason. I've seen his medical notes from the time, and a more recent post-mortem second opinion from a top physician and the general consensus was "this man is fucked in at least two if not three separate ways, none of which we fully understand. Maybe he should have seen a doctor earlier."

Just to be absolutely clear though - if you guys fuck up the current Pax Europa with your Brexit and creeping Right Wing Nationalism, and re-commence the national sport of Interfering in Land Wars In Europe, neither I nor my son will be coming over to help this time. And you can pay market rates for the wool and butter, too.

[Mellsblue]

I had a “grandma” and a “gran.” I don’t remember much about them because they both died when I was quite young. I didn’t have names for my grandfathers because one died a couple of months before I was born and the other when I was 1 year old.

None of my grandparents lived past age 63, which didn’t give them much time to pass on any wisdom (and doesn’t bode well for me...)

Alright, alright - just so you don't think we were shirking over here in His Majesty's Dominions, I should add that the grandfather who lived past my birth was in the 19th Armoured Division of 2NZEF, mostly chasing Germans up Italy in a Sherman tank.

My other grandfather was a dairy farmer. Although dairy farming was not officially an "essential industry", farmers tended not to be conscripted in order to keep the Empire supplied with butter and so forth. (By July 1940, the only way to join the NZ Army was by conscription - volunteering was not permitted). He also had an alarming range of obscure health issues, which is why he died at 59 before I was born. Later in life he used to go blind in winter for no apparent reason. I've seen his medical notes from the time, and a more recent post-mortem second opinion from a top physician and the general consensus was "this man is fucked in at least two if not three separate ways, none of which we fully understand. Maybe he should have seen a doctor earlier."

Just to be absolutely clear though - if you guys fuck up the current Pax Europa with your Brexit and creeping Right Wing Nationalism, and re-commence the national sport of Interfering in Land Wars In Europe, neither I nor my son will be coming over to help this time. And you can pay market rates for the wool and butter, too.

Tbh, with those genes we’ll be better off without you.

[Stones of granite]

I had a “grandma” and a “gran.” I don’t remember much about them because they both died when I was quite young. I didn’t have names for my grandfathers because one died a couple of months before I was born and the other when I was 1 year old.

None of my grandparents lived past age 63, which didn’t give them much time to pass on any wisdom (and doesn’t bode well for me...)

Alright, alright - just so you don't think we were shirking over here in His Majesty's Dominions, I should add that the grandfather who lived past my birth was in the 19th Armoured Division of 2NZEF, mostly chasing Germans up Italy in a Sherman tank.

My other grandfather was a dairy farmer. Although dairy farming was not officially an "essential industry", farmers tended not to be conscripted in order to keep the Empire supplied with butter and so forth. (By July 1940, the only way to join the NZ Army was by conscription - volunteering was not permitted). He also had an alarming range of obscure health issues, which is why he died at 59 before I was born. Later in life he used to go blind in winter for no apparent reason. I've seen his medical notes from the time, and a more recent post-mortem second opinion from a top physician and the general consensus was "this man is fucked in at least two if not three separate ways, none of which we fully understand. Maybe he should have seen a doctor earlier."

Just to be absolutely clear though - if you guys fuck up the current Pax Europa with your Brexit and creeping Right Wing Nationalism, and re-commence the national sport of Interfering in Land Wars In Europe, neither I nor my son will be coming over to help this time. And you can pay market rates for the wool and butter, too.

At the risk of going off-topic, Doctor's are twats. They spend a shit-ton of money on Prostate Awareness advertising, then when you go along and ask for a PSA test/DRE they make you feel like a hypochondriac twat who is wasting their time. For context, I will be 57 in 1 month, my father was 56 when he was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer and he died of it at 58. I first had to endure a fucking lecture about the minimal genetic component in Prostate Cancer prevalence.
Twats.

[AL.]

Grew up in Prestwick and Edinburgh and used Granny and Grandad for both my Scottish and English Grandparents. Moved to England in the eighties still used Granny and Grandad right up until my (last) Granny died last year her in 90's me in 40's, always Granny.

[morepork]

I had a “grandma” and a “gran.” I don’t remember much about them because they both died when I was quite young. I didn’t have names for my grandfathers because one died a couple of months before I was born and the other when I was 1 year old.

None of my grandparents lived past age 63, which didn’t give them much time to pass on any wisdom (and doesn’t bode well for me...)

Alright, alright - just so you don't think we were shirking over here in His Majesty's Dominions, I should add that the grandfather who lived past my birth was in the 19th Armoured Division of 2NZEF, mostly chasing Germans up Italy in a Sherman tank.

My other grandfather was a dairy farmer. Although dairy farming was not officially an "essential industry", farmers tended not to be conscripted in order to keep the Empire supplied with butter and so forth. (By July 1940, the only way to join the NZ Army was by conscription - volunteering was not permitted). He also had an alarming range of obscure health issues, which is why he died at 59 before I was born. Later in life he used to go blind in winter for no apparent reason. I've seen his medical notes from the time, and a more recent post-mortem second opinion from a top physician and the general consensus was "this man is fucked in at least two if not three separate ways, none of which we fully understand. Maybe he should have seen a doctor earlier."

Just to be absolutely clear though - if you guys fuck up the current Pax Europa with your Brexit and creeping Right Wing Nationalism, and re-commence the national sport of Interfering in Land Wars In Europe, neither I nor my son will be coming over to help this time. And you can pay market rates for the wool and butter, too.

At the risk of going off-topic, Doctor's are twats. They spend a shit-ton of money on Prostate Awareness advertising, then when you go along and ask for a PSA test/DRE they make you feel like a hypochondriac twat who is wasting their time. For context, I will be 57 in 1 month, my father was 56 when he was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer and he died of it at 58. I first had to endure a fucking lecture about the minimal genetic component in Prostate Cancer prevalence.
Twats.

Your doctor is a mong. No causative locus is not the same as no family history.

[Coco]

Similar here.. my english scottish irish belgian grandparents were 'gramma and grampa', while my italian grandparents were 'nonna and gramps'.

Gramps smoked pallmall non filter cigs and farmed for decades. He worked as a heavy equipment operator til the day he died @ 72 yrs of age. I remember him taking us kids (12 or so of us) to mcdonalds for lunch, and ordering himself a "cheeseburger.. with no cheese please". We still laugh about that to this day. (Dumb I know but we got a kick out of that)

I also remember one weekend my parents went to Las Vegas so us kids stayed at nonna and gramps house while they were gone. After dinner one evening gramps threw a chair up on the dining room table and put a cutting board in front of the legs... insisting on showing my sister and myself how to play dice. All the while nonna yelling "g*d dammit stephano, youre going to break the table!" Actually one of the best memories I have of them since time alone with them was scarce, having tons of cousins to compete with.

Apparently during prohibition, his uncle made the best apricot brandy in town. They had a ''business' picking up trashcans that were full from restaurants, emptying them, returning the cans clean and full of bottles of his brandy (under the guise of cleaned empty trashcans) Gramps said the local police dept liked the brandy, too... and would give them a ring to give them a heads up when they were going to go over to his place to look for evidence of alcohol.

[morepork]

Similar here.. my english scottish irish belgian grandparents were 'gramma and grampa', while my italian grandparents were 'nonna and gramps'.

Gramps smoked pallmall non filter cigs and farmed for decades. He worked as a heavy equipment operator til the day he died @ 72 yrs of age. I remember him taking us kids (12 or so of us) to mcdonalds for lunch, and ordering himself a "cheeseburger.. with no cheese please". We still laugh about that to this day. (Dumb I know but we got a kick out of that)

I also remember one weekend my parents went to Las Vegas so us kids stayed at nonna and gramps house while they were gone. After dinner one evening gramps threw a chair up on the dining room table and put a cutting board in front of the legs... insisting on showing my sister and myself how to play dice. All the while nonna yelling "g*d dammit stephano, youre going to break the table!" Actually one of the best memories I have of them since time alone with them was scarce, having tons of cousins to compete with.

Apparently during prohibition, his uncle made the best apricot brandy in town. They had a ''business' picking up trashcans that were full from restaurants, emptying them, returning the cans clean and full of bottles of his brandy (under the guise of cleaned empty trashcans) Gramps said the local police dept liked the brandy, too... and would give them a ring to give them a heads up when they were going to go over to his place to look for evidence of alcohol.

Total quality Coco.

[BBD]

Dads parents I didn't know well, only met my Grandad once or twice when I was young but he worked in a variety of labouring type jobs and stayed longest at the Tannery, a very stinky job I was told. My Nan lived a little longer and my most vivid memory of her was her skinning and gutting a couple of rabbits from the previous nights lamping (hunting rabbits in the dark with a spot lamp and a battery and a couple of dogs)

Mums parents were Granny and Grandad, we visited them fairly regularly as kids. My Grandmother was a fairly unpleasant woman, which was kept from us kids until later in life. SO my fondest memories of her were of her hiding sweets (marshmallows) under a small plastic statue she had of a leprechaun.
I adored my Grandad and have many fond memories of him. He left school aged 11 when his dad died, he was now the man of the house and was needed to run the farm. They farmed on a small island in the Shannon and they had to row a mile to the mainland for every thing, including to go to school, then was several miles to the school itself.
He built a successful business in London and during the war he was an ARP warden. The worst of which was when a bomb exploded killing a lot of women and children who were sheltering in the London underground
We used to spend Christmas with them and we got a personal visit from "Santy" on Christmas Eve cos he knew my Granny personally apparently....
I can still imagine his voice, telling me stories and doing his Captain Mainwaring impression "Stupid Boy" from Dads Army
When I finished my O Levels I went and worked/lived with my Uncle for the Summer, during that time we met up with my Grandad in his local club and he was really proud and chuffed when I was able to buy him a pint. (He could practically hoover Guinness down his throat, effortlessly, like youd pour it down the sink)

[Coco]

Awesome stories and memories

[Eugene Wrayburn]

Didn't know my paternal grandparents. My maternal ones were Mama and Dada (short a's). Never met Mama. Dada I barely remember. He came to stay with us once when I was about 7. All I remember is him thawing out my hands when I had rather foolishly decided to have a snowball fight after school without gloves. He didn't grass on me to my mum either.

[SerjeantWildgoose]

He could practically hoover Guinness down his throat, effortlessly, like youd pour it down the sink

Who the FUCK would do such a thing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[SerjeantWildgoose]

Knocker nanny, because she had a door knocker, and ding-dong nanny because she was fancy and had a door bell.

How the feck did this one get through?

Knockers and ding-dongs!!!! COME ON!?!?

[Lizard]

Prompted partly by this thread, I’ve got hold of my grandfather’s service records. Despite both his parents and at least half his grandparents being born in New Zealand, his enlistment papers record him as “British”!

They must have all been mad.

[SerjeantWildgoose]

Livid, I'd say.

I hazard a guess that this is because New Zealand was still a British dominion until 1947.