I only ever knew my mum's parents. My grandad was a spiteful man (we used to call him the Ayatollah) who detested women and thought they should all be seen and not heard. He even gave my mother a 'hiding' in front of me when I was 4, and then threw her out onto the street in the freezing, pouring rain. However, when my younger brother died 5 years ago, I saw him break down and cry. It was the first time in 27 years I'd seen him express an emotion that wasn't sheer uncontrollable fury. When he died a couple of years ago, there were 11 people at his funeral - that tells you all you need to know!
My nan, by stark contrast is the most amazing person ever, though she can't ever get our names right. She has often called me Rocky, Jasper and Son. Rocky was a Jack Russell, Jasper was a cross between an alsatian and a bull dog, and I'm definitely the wrong sex to be called 'Son'.
lol.