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.
Thursday 1st March 1962
Another cold day again with some slight snow showers. Some sunshine. Cleaned all lab grids out. 600 galls of oil came. X. Cleaned both jet and both cold filters. X. Carron left tonight. Gordon putting shed by the T pen.
(Just reminder, I have no idea what X means. It appears often. I think T pen is turkey pen.)