On Visiting my Grandmother After She Fell Down the Stairs

Diary, Monday 9th June 2025

Back in England visiting my Grandmother who has managed to fall down the stairs for a seventh time and has ended up in hospital. As a rule I am not overly fond of visiting family, but my Grandmother — in whose Last Will and Testament is tied up around 80% of the total family wealth — seems to evoke a strange tenderness in me.

I find her propped up in bed, wrapped tightly in sheets like a swaddled baby. Beneath the sheets, no doubt, is a mass of mangled limbs. I bring in her favourite chocolates, note unceremoniously my brother’s absence, and remind her of the time he called her an “evil little dwarf”. When the nurse has departed and we are finally alone, I check that, when she goes up and down the stairs at home, my grandmother is making sure to wear the super-grippy roller blade safety shoes I got her. “Yes, Bill,” she says.

Good. I take a flight back to Madrid the same day. The whole thing costs me a total of €278. This leaves me out of pocket, but one really must invest in family. Besides, my mother informs me that a rich great aunt (who dotes on me) has just installed a swimming pool in her garden and fancies she can swim.