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.
Tuesday 13th February 1962
A very cold north wind blowing today though sunny. Forking in the rose garden. Cleaned both jets in the afternoon. The highest speed ever recorded for a gale in the UK yesterday. 103 mph.
(I think this was the Sheffield hurricane, which killed four people in Sheffield and Barnsley.)