My granddad died in 1983. For the previous 20 years, he kept a diary, recording his day as a farm worker and then through his retirement. We are lucky enough to have his notebooks, all the entries in block capitals, often in pencil. He always tells us about the weather, sometimes about what is going well at the allotment. We get updates of how Liverpool are doing and the occasional political thought. He suffered from rheumatoid arthritis, was always in pain, but you would never know from these entries. My mum once described him as a contented man. Who knows, really, but certainly, there is something soothing about these entries. So I thought I would share them with you. We have a few years to cover so buckle up.
Lovely sunny day though a cold wind still blowing. Burnt a pig.* One of ours. Forking down the drive. Finished it all by five. Awful mine disaster in Germany. Nearly 300 killed.
* I think this says burnt a pig. But why?
(Luisenthal mine disaster, 7th February, 1962.)
My Granddad is Keeping Busy 
One response to “Thursday 8th February 1962”
Maybe the pig was diseased, and they had to kill it to stop infection?
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