‘You’re 98?!’ said the plumber, surprised, as he was fixing the kitchen sink.

A wide smile of delight spread across my grandma’s face. She always loves when people are surprised at just how old she is.

‘So what’s the secret then?’ he asked.

Oh, here we go, I thought.

‘Well, I always say: olive oil, garlic, and TWO glasses of wine at lunchtime.’ She said, delighted to be able to give her well-rehearsed answer. She always emphasises the two.

The plumber giggled at that answer, which delighted my grandma even more.

It is true, she does love all of those things, but I don’t think it is the secret to her longevity- it is more that she has good genes – I always think that answer makes her sound like those Italian nonnas that make fresh pasta on YouTube.

One thing is for sure, grandma loves wine. Red. Any kind. And great quantities of it. She does (mostly) stick to the two glasses at lunch rule, I keep an eye on that as I don’t want her wobbling around the house and falling. She is in dangerous wobbling territory after the second glass, but she usually naps all afternoon after that which means I can focus on work.

I’m not sure when her love of wine started, the family story is that when my (French) mum visited them for the first time, my grandparents had offered her a cup of tea with their dinner,  my mother had apparently recoiled in horror, and insisted they have wine with dinner like civilised people, franchement! My grandparents had taken to this new habit enthusiastically and started drinking wine at every available opportunity.

Since I had started caring for her, I had taken on the role of wine police. Only when I had to, if she was on medication that meant she couldn’t drink, and to avoid situations where she was unsteady on her feet.

This is always the most difficult thing to police, because she is so sneaky with it.

Memorably, one Sunday lunchtime, I had agreed to let her have a small glass of wine despite her being on antibiotics, mainly to stop hearing her endless complaints about it. I poured her one glass and said she could only have that. She grimaced, but nodded. After lunch, as I was in the kitchen washing up, I heard wine being poured. I rushed back in dining room : ‘Did you pour more wine?’ I asked. Secretly impressed at her speed.

–        ‘Yes.’ She said, looking up sheepishly.

–        ‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice?’ I asked, amused.

–        ‘Yes.’

–        ‘Is it time to repent?’

–        ‘Yes, until tomorrow lunchtime.’ She said, smoothing the tablecloth.

Caught off guard, I laughed. ‘Ha! You were unbelievably quick! Bad Grandma!’

Apart from the garlic and the daily red wine consumption, the other thing that I think keeps my 98 year old grandmother running around like a 90 year old is that I have implemented a daily wellness regime. I started after we both caught COVID 19 (from her hairdresser- long story- that’s another blog) over Christmas 2020. We were both very sick and the disease really wiped her out, so as part of our recovery regime, I ordered some vitamins- marketed to over 70s, I couldn’t find a higher age bracket (vitamin companies, take note, maybe there is an extra old age category to be created), which she began to reluctantly take every morning, and we started doing some light working out together during the advert break of her TV shows after I had finished work in the evenings. 

At around 7pm, during the first ad break of ‘Heartbeat’, an old British drama series, it is time for her exercises. We get up off the sofa and sit back down, and repeat 10 times. Loudly counting – oooooone, twooooo, threeeee.. You get the idea. Once we’ve done that, we walk the length of the living and dining room 5 times, touching the living room windowsill to count one lap. Her counting is less enthusiastic as she is out of breath but she soldiers on to do her 5 laps. 

It has become a habit, and after a solid 6 months of me doing them with her, she now takes it upon herself to do them on her own at 7pm on the dot even if I’m still working. I’m often on a conference call and can hear the ‘ooooone, twoooo…’ counting coming from downstairs which I think is very sweet. On the odd occasion that she doesn’t feel like doing her exercises, she sits extra still when I come downstairs, as if to suggest I will somehow forget because she is not moving or talking to me. I smile to myself, wait until the next ad break, and say enthusiastically :‘Come on grandma! Exercise time!’ which usually is enough to get her started.

You might be thinking I should leave her alone, and not make her do any physical exercise, but I reason that it is a good idea to keep her moving even a little bit so she finds it easier to get around the house and do her light Tuesday morning shopping with her carer.

Plus it means she can continue telling her favourite fake story about what keeps her young.