More on my grandfather

I'm trying to fix in mind my first memory of him. I can't. It seems, to me, that he always was. I recall my sister and me staying overnight in their house, which always seemed to be freezing cold because it didn't have central heating. My granddad used to wear a wig then, which he kept on a faintly disturbing polyester bust when not using it. I remember laughing as he managed to pursuade my 3-year-old sis that it needed feeding, and she proffering a biscuit to it. Mostly, I remember sunday dinners in his house, lazy luches of roast beef and potatoes, with spotted dick (made by my nan) for dessert, followed by lazy lounging in front of the TV, while nan made huge platters of sandwiches for Tea, and Grandad would let me look through huis book collection for something interesting to read. At Christmas, the family would rent out a big, dusty ex-church that smelt of ancient, dry wood, and grandad would get dressed up as Father Christmas and hand out bulky, garish presents. Other memories will come, I'm sure: I need time to think them over.