Alexandra and Peter Christophe

As I have previously said, I have unfortunately had to say goodbye to six of my close relatives during my life so far. I would like to pay tribute to them all in this blog at some point and I thought I would start with my beloved paternal grandparents Alexandra and Peter Christophe. Before I begin I should point out that we are Greek and have different words for Nan and Granddad! Nan = Yiayia, Granddad = Buppou.


My Yiayia and Buppou were amazingly brave people. Originally from Cyprus, they came to England with their four children, Chris, Sotiris, George (my dad) and Eleni, many years ago. They lost their home, land and pretty much everything during the 1974 Cyprus Invasion and the whole family were forced to set up new homes in the south of the Island. They also had to face losing two of their children to cancer: my Uncle Sotiris and my Auntie Eleni. How they managed to survive all of that I will never know.


I was the first grandchild on my dad's side of the family and without sounding vain, I was a much loved baby. As my parents are divorced and my grandparents no longer with us, I am the very proud owner of about a million photos and videos detailing the first few years of my life. In fact my Uncle Chris likes to point out that my dad liked to video everything, including several hours of me just sitting in a baby bouncer! These photos and videos are my most cherished possessions as they are my only reminders of the family I have lost.


My Yiayia was one of the nicest and kindest ladies I have ever known; to this day I have never heard a negative story about her. She was amazing. I remember going to visit her after my aunt died and somehow she had found the strength to get up and make us food because she couldn't bear the idea of her grandchildren not having lunch. That was my Yiayia all over: her family was her everything. Weirdly enough I always think of my Yiayia when I'm eating Pomegranate. She always used to peel mine for me so I could eat the seeds with a spoon, without her I have to peel it myself!


My Buppou was a very caring but very cantankerous man. Watching videos of my Buppou from back before my aunt and uncle died, he was always singing and dancing and he really loved his children and grandchildren. He did like to complain a lot, my most favourite moment being when he told my stepmum Shan she didn’t make toast brown enough (I can verify that she does make very nice toast).


My Yiayia had suffered from Cancer before but a few years ago she was diagnosed with Throat Cancer and spent lots of time in hospital. My sister Nikki and I were old enough to go to hospital to visit her and tried to most days. She couldn’t talk very much and had a rather large growth on her neck but she was still our Yiayia, giving us money and chocolate and ALWAYS delighted to see us. A few days after my 18^th birthday in 2006, she suffered a massive heart attack and we were woken up in the middle of the night to be told we would probably have to say goodbye. Somehow she managed to wake up and survive for another five months before passing away on September 6^th 2006.


My Buppou had seldom been ill before my Yiayia died. In fact I can’t recall ever hearing of him being ill. But once she died he slowly fell to pieces. We moved him out of the Brixton flat that had been their home for many years and took him to Cyprus so my dad and step mum could look after him. In July 2009 he became very ill and a shadow of his former self. It was Cancer. Unfortunately my trip to Cyprus in August 2009 was the last time I got to see my Buppou alive. He died on January 17^th 2010. My Uncle Chris and I flew straight to Cyprus for his funeral and he was buried with my Yiayia: the love of his life.


My Yiayia and Buppou suffered through many tragedies during their lives but the memories I have of them are amazing. I always remember the chocolate cakes and amazing Sunday roasts at their house. I remember the funny rants my Buppou would have and the caring nature of my Yiayia. We all miss them very much and not a day goes by without me thinking of them. I hope they are somewhere now, happily reunited with my aunt and uncle watching over my dad and all of us with smiles on their faces.