Been thinking about family lines a bit lately...
My paternal Grandfather - Always wore a suit, nearly always with a bow-tie (unless he was just staying indoors for the afternoon, in which case he'd forgo the bow). He didn't like shaving so carried a modified bulldog clip and would pluck out his whiskers at spare moments throughout the day.
My paternal Grandmother - She would swear at us kids in Swahili when we got on her nerves.
My paternal Grandfather - He used to write to me in Morse Code - long hand-written pages of dots and dashes. It takes dozens of pages to write a letter in Morse. -... . .-.. .. . ...- . / -- .
My maternal Grandmother - She would always correct my pronunciation.
"Not 'Yeah"... the word is pronounced 'YESsss!".
But she still had baked beans in her cupboard from about 1950 so I didn't take her that seriously.
My maternal Grandfather - A brown Rover 3500 was his pride and joy - if we were good he'd let us sit in the front, at all other times we were strictly backseat citizens.
I hate Byron Bay and surfing*
2 hours ago