It's 11 years ago today since we lost Granda, and I think it quite fitting that I share my thoughts on someone who meant the world to me, and the rest of the family, though I think only if you knew him would you appreciate what I say here.
I spent a lot of time with my grandparents as a child, and later once I became a parent myself. That wasn't something done out of duty, like some families do,but something I really enjoyed, loved, looked forward to. Grandma and Granda lived close to our Junior School and my brother and I would go there for lunch and tea during the week. Weekends were brilliant too, we would stay over most Saturday nights, and then back again for tea and Scrabble on Sunday. I think the weekends meant most to us, and Saturday evenings were just lovely. Apart from having to keep quiet for 5 minutes while Granda checked the pools, the whole evening would revolve around Barry and I having a great time. Saturday night TV was at its best then, with Candid Camera, The Dick Emery Show, Generation Game with Brucie and best of all, Starsky and Hutch before bed! Granda would often take us out in the car beforehand to get sweets and to make sure he had his bottle of Brown Ale, and the only reward he ever asked for was for me to 'wash' his hair, at my pretendy hairdressers at the end of the settee. By the time I got to the rinse and blowdry stage, he would have dozed off, and be snoring loudly, much to Grandma's annoyance!
I am incredibly proud of my Granda, and will never forget the weekend he was taken across the Channel to join the other Dunkirk veterans, to mark the 45th anniversary of the evacuation. All the men of the family made the trip with him, and I stayed behind with Grandma to man the video recorder, as the BBC cameras were filming Granda's visit to Dunkirk. They made a programme about him, Mongan's War, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house when it was broadcast. During the programme, Granda became quite choked when talking about friends who hadn't made it, and at that point I realised just how much it meant to Granda to go back there, to those beaches, the setting of so many of the stories he used to tell us. When Remembrance Day comes round, I wear my poppy with so much pride, for my Granda.
He's my hero for many other reasons, and it would take you an eternity to read all of my memories of him. He had a story for everything, and we knew many were hugely exaggerated, but that didn't matter. He loved to tell us how we were descended from the Kings of Ireland, how our great great Granda won lots of money at the Galway races, and frittered it all away on booze and gambling. I think a family fortune would have been lovely, but the image of Gregory as an Irish rogue is something far more appealing. Granda would take us all over, he loved to drive, though his clutch control wasn't always the greatest, we thought the 'kangaroo petrol' was really funny! Annual visits to Penshaw monument,day trips to Scarborough, Sunday mornings spent at Sunderland Airport watching parachutists, or down by the farm to see the horses. He insisted we work up an appetite for Grandma's Sunday lunch, and would take us to 'the baths' or down to Trow Rocks at Shields. We would stand by his side as he chatted to friends at the allotments, Granda rolling his ciggies, but fishing Black Bullets out of his pocket for me and Barry.
My brother got to spend lots of time with Granda, pottering in the shed, while Grandma and I baked goodies for teatime. As I got older, I got to spend lots more time with him too, he would let me drive his car, and then taking James, Devon and Robyn to visit him was just smashing. The oldest two remember him well, and I know they are very lucky to have been so close to a great grandparent.
So this afternoon, I shall go to the cemetery, to take flowers. I chat to them as I tidy around,and I know they wouldn't want me out in the pouring rain, so I will just stay a short while. I went to see a play on Friday night about an old soldier celebrating his 80th birthday. My friend Kevin wrote the play,and it was brilliant, and evoked so many memories of Granda, though I never mentioned that to Kevin afterwards..I think we would both have been in tears.
I don't think my writing could ever do justice to my Granda, but it was nice reliving just some of the many many special times we shared. I know I have a some of his personality traits, not least the one that leads me to talk so much! Pride in family is probably the strongest, I'm sure it's from him,and he's the reason I kept my maiden name when I married. My Granda wasn't perfect, his smoking was the reason he became so ill, but yet when I think of him, I see him walking, with his stick in one hand, roll-up in the other, enjoying the fresh air as we walk along the pier. I often dream about him, and would give anything to spend just one more day in his company. My Granda, always loved, never forgotten.xxx
