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.
A lovely mild day. Got moped back from Cameron’s last night. 12/-. Seems ok now. Old Dot passed her test yesterday.* Car washing K, B2, H. making 14 to date. Did B1, A, G in the week.
(At aged 90, my mum had just turned in her license. As she frequently reminds us, she’s never had a fine or penalty in 61 years of driving.)
My Granddad is Keeping Busy 