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place in anyone elses hands.

Nanna died in 1992 in hospital just three days before her 84th birthday. I will never forget her fighting for breath and the hotness of her skin as I kissed her goodbye. I can sense the clamminess on my right hand even now as I touched her on the shoulder for the final time.

Nanna was a saint. She was head of the family and almost like royalty - there was a real presence whenever she was around. If she was in the room you couldn't help but take notice. She had that incredible balance of morals and fun, strictness and kindness. Another wonderful woman and I miss her dearly.

Grandpop lived until the age of 95 and died just 10 days before the millennium. Always incredibly fit with a full head of hair I always felt that he'd live forever. He had a habit of jangling his change in his pocket, something that amused me and irritated my father but I was amazingly fond of him.

I loved talking with him about the old days of being out and about in his sugar beet lorry and all the cars he drove. It was a simple life but it always fascinated me. One memory I will always treasure is of visiting him in hospital the week before he died and watching him and my 8-month old daughter Hannah smiling at each other. Another change over in the generations.

When he passed on the family name died but my cousin gave his surname 'Starr' to their daughter who was born a few months later. A lovely touch I felt.

I guess my grandparents were fortunate to be of a certain age, being at what I can only describe as their 'peak' in between the wars. Their roles during those years were still important of course but they didn't see front line action.

My grandad was in the home guard during WWII and my dad told me once that he asked him: "Dad, if a German came into our garden would you shoot him?" and he replied, "No, I'd invite him for a cup of tea."

Being such a lovely man it's hard to tell if that was the truth or not!

Grandpop was a fireman in the village where we lived. Typically, there was only one big fire during the entire war and he was out driving his sugar beet lorry and missed it.

The thing that gets me thinking most though was the time when a German aircraft crashed into a house just 50 yards from my grandparent's home. My mother was playing with a ball outside at the time.

The site is now a car park and just two doors from the village hall. That's relevant because my parents had their wedding reception there as did my sister. My cub scout troop met there too.

If that plane crashed on the hall MY life would've been different and if it had landed on my grandparents house I wouldn't have existed at all.

Why am I telling you all this? I dunno really. Maybe it's because my parents are getting older and still feeling I have something to prove. Maybe it's the births and deaths this past year. Maybe it's because I'm turning 40 in a few months. Maybe it's all of these things - I just wanted to say them.

We are all here but for a short time. I only hope that my children and grandchildren (if blessed) will have as happy memories as I have of my family and childhood.

Learn more about this author, Jeremy Orbell.
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