Hair-raising times at home.

SOME of the memories I treasure most from my childhood are of my Mum's mum and nights curled up on the lounge with a cuppa, a Sao and a Scotchfinger biscuit.

They are of Friday afternoons after school, catching the bus to her house and racing to the freezer for an iceblock.

Of swinging from her frangipani tree while she warned us not to get the white sap in our eyes.

Of cuddling with her under the blankets until 8am, because my Nan was a nightowl.

How the only time she took the car out was when one of her grandchilren came for a sleepover and she would drive to the local KFC for a potato and...