Granddaddies Little Girl Part 2

 


So, it’s taken me a bit of time to write this one, due to one thing or another, and it’s taken me a bit of time to think about this very complex man, and group together my memories of him . . .

Granddad Ted was born into a family of birdcage makers in Covent Garden (how romantic does that sound!) and when he was old enough, worked with his father in the market as a green grocer. There were seven children in total, six boys and one girl, and the sense of family camaraderie really always came through. They would go off 'Hopping' in the summer, living in tin huts in the then Garden of England, Kent. Picking hops, singing songs, and eating good food, building up their strength for the harshness of a London winter. . .

I once asked him if he knew his grandparents, and where they had lived. ‘In the house that backed onto ours,’ he said, ‘but we didn’t really see them . . .’
‘Why?’ I had asked.
‘Well my Grandfather pushed my Grandmother down the stairs and killed her, so we just didn’t!’ What a startling revelation and one that I didn’t, and haven’t still, pursued.

In the war, he was still too young to join up initially, but then became a driver in Bletchley, the home of the code breakers.

Soon after the war, he married Betty, and along came two boys, one of them my father. Because of dad’s weak chest, the doctors advised them to move out into the countryside to the fresh air, and so they did, to the new town Hemel Hempstead. He opened up a greengrocer’s shop, with my grandmother doing the floristry side of things that grew and did well.

They soon moved from the town, further out into the countryside, and this homestead is where my main memories of him come into play . . .

He was Pa Larkin – there was always the bulging veg patch, the Sunday lunches and huge spread teas in the afternoon, shared with as many family members as possible . . . Us jumping on him, and him ‘giving us whiskers!’

He was soft hearted, and instead of demanding debts be settled in cash, often took goods in exchange – vans, chickens – you name it. This soft heart extended to animals, and he could never see an animal that was being mistreated . . .

He would go to the horse market in Southall, and buy anything so that the meat man wouldn’t get them . . . every Wednesday he would come back with a couple of new horses, much to my Grandmothers annoyance.

Quite often with these horses came carts, and gigs, and all the tack to go with them . . . this is my favourite memory of him . . . coming to collect us on a Sunday morning, the sound of horses hooves on tarmac signalling his arrival, and us rushing out to jump on to be taken along to the house, and lunch . . . His smiling face as we trotted along, holding all the traffic up, us giggling away . . .

Ill health got to him though, and once whilst fixing a roof, he fell through, and was left hanging for hours – it was that shock that the doctors said lead to his diabetes, but the heart condition was bought on by years of early starts, and post war rich food . . .

They eventually moved out of the homestead, as it became too much for them both, and when my grandmother died (she had always been the healthy one) he became bitter at the world that it had not been him . . .

I will always remember the good times with him, and times we shared with the horses, and in the garden . . . not the broken man he ended up being . . .

 

Grand-daddies little girl . . . Part 1 . . .

Grand-daddies little girl . . . Part 1 . . .

One of my co-workers very suddenly lost her grandfather, and it has made me think a lot about my wonderful ones . . .

Most of us reminisce about out Grandmothers - baking, sewing, their button tins ;) . . . and tend to overlook the Grandfathers . . . However, I can safely say that I totally adored both of mine, and on looking back, can remember the most unusual things about them . . . So before time moves on, and I forget all of these wonderful nuances, I'm going to write these two blogs for them . . .

Grandad George

Born in 1919, Grandad George was born within the sound of Bow Bells, and until the age of fourteen slept in a chair next to a fireplace . . . the fact that he never had a bed of his own shocked me when I heard this age eighteen.

Trained as a cobbler, he entered the Second World War as a machine gunner, and saw action on the D-Day beaches, something that he never once spoke about to me. He obviously enjoyed himself though, with photos of him and his comrades larking about during their time at camp.

A quiet gentle giant he was always such a gentleman . . .

His hands and nails were always immaculate, shoes polished, clothes spic and span . . . always close shaved, and smelling of Lifebuoy Soap and cigarettes, although his brand of choice eludes me . . .

He and his wife moved from London to give their young family a better start after the war - the new town Hemel Hempstead became their home, and he worked hard at the Vauxhall car plant in Luton. Soon enough, they had their own home, with very neat flower beds, roses, a lawn, a veg patch and a garden shed - the place where my memories of him are compounded by the wonderful smell of creosote and earth . .. The box that he made to insulate the outside tap so it wouldn't freeze, the oil tray that he kept under the car engine so it didn't damage the garage floor, and the wonderful deck chairs that until recently we still used . . .

The car trips we used to take to Weston, and the wind break, tea, rock and the vest, rolled up trousers and knotted hankie ensemble he would wear when he dug at the beach with us.

He became the sole carer for my grandmother when she became ill, and refused to put her into a home even when it was detrimental to his own health . . .

When he finally succumbed, he came into his own, but maybe looking back on it, it was due to his loneliness . . . He became a regular at bingo, winning a substantial amount of money, and going away on coach tours around the UK - once winning a fancy dress competition as dressing up as Carmen Miranda, complete with fruit!

When he died, he was the first of my grandparents to go . . .

He had two weeks previously been to see my Grandmother in the home for the first time, and then had been down to see my mum in her new home . . . it was as if he knew his time to move on had come, and he wanted to check that everyone was safe and settled . . .

I will never forget this wonderful gentle man, and the way he bought stability into my life . . .

Much love, Ax

Times, they are a changing . . .

So when Bob Dylan sang those immortal words back in 1964, I bet he didn’t think that they would be used in a blog by a 30 something woman about the changes going on in her life . . . I never fail to marvel at how small a world it really is nowadays, and how popular culture immerses itself into our day to day lives.

Nothing has surprised me more than the growth and reach of ‘Seeded – Vintage Buttons and Haberdashery.’ When I started the Facebook page off back in September/ October of 2011, I never knew it would bring me so close to such amazing people around the world. It was really born from the fact that my day job had stagnated, and as far as I could see, it was going nowhere . . .

So, on a whim, I started this fantastic journey, that now incorporates buttons, and also Natterworkers . . .

However, things change, and also on another whim, I applied for, and got a job which I know is going to restrict my social networking time . . . It’s a huge step up for me, but I am really going to relish the challenge.

It’s a bitter sweet moment for me, but a great opportunity, as it also gives me the chance to take stock of how I work with Seeded and implement some changes . . . I have felt recently that my service standards aren’t where I would like them to be (massive fan of Michael Heppel here ;) ) and so I’m hoping to rectify this.

So, without further ado please find the following changes . . .

1.       Instead of weekly sales, there will be monthly button sales from May, on Facebook

2.       I will update all my Etsy listings, and this will be the main place that I post buttons from now on.

3.       If you have a special request for buttons, please do ask me, via Facebook or email  – I come alive when someone asks me for specific colours and styles, and I just love searching through the collections.

4.       I might be quiet on Facebook, but I am around – I can’t keep away from you lovely lot, and I really don’t want to miss out on any friendships I have gained there . . .

5.       It may also take me a little longer to come back to you, but please do be assured I will do ;)

I hope that makes sense, and if not please do shout . . . only time will tell if this will work out, but I have everything crossed ;)

Much love, Ax