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.
Not a bad morning. Got up at 9.30. Little Jane stayed the night with us. She was very good. Ron and Dot went to a dinner at Lever’s last night. Came to us for dinner today.
(Mum and Dad failing to remember what that dinner was. “Not the managers’ dinner.”)
My Granddad is Keeping Busy 