mbenne
master brummie
I was prompted by EmmaLL's post 'Grandads Memoirs' to add some of my Dad's. In his 80th year he began to type his first words on a PC and started adding a few family photographs to bring his work to life. He also wrote a lot of poetry and usually added a poem to the end of each chapter. Despite his age he had a fantastic memory for detail and facts - I struggle to remember what to bring back from the shops half the time!
I haven't read all his stuff yet, which I took from his old PC hard drive and various CDs and floppy disks. Its not that I don't want to read it, but I like to select a piece every now again and as I read it it's like he's here telling it and to me this keeps him alive - if that makes sense?
The first piece is about the start of the 1950's after he married Mom. Having no place of their own they took the downstairs living room at my Granparent's in Cranespark Road, Sheldon. They can only dream of having their own place and then I come along - so the timing of this post is rather apt as its only a few days off my birthday. The places he writes about would be Elmdon Park, Sheldon Park, Chelmsley Wood (When it was a wood) and Marston Green Maternity Hospital - no specific references but I know their tracks well!
In a later piece they find a house close to my Nan's, an offer is accepted and they get their long awaited mortgage on the same day my Dad is put on short time. Before things get worse, Mom, ever the optimist, takes an evening job in the Sheldon Pub and I'm left in my Dad's capable hands- or maybe not. Even at the age of two I know that we have left the relative comfort of my Nan's house. I guess I should have been long in bed when Mom was working but I can still remember being scared to move from the only chair in the room as I watched Quatermass on an old 12 inch tv my Dad had salvaged and repaired. It had no case and acted as our only living room lamp which was lit with its array of hot glowing valves that reminded me of rockets. Similarly, the radio, another repair job, having no table of its own, was situated on the floor at the back of the room, next to the gas meter. We had no TV licence and the inevitable happened when one day we get a visit from the licensing authority and my Dad comes clean. The inspector must have felt sorry for him and asked if he came back the following day would he have a licence? My Dad tells him straight, that he's skint and this is why he didn't have one in the first place! All was saved when my Nan and Grandad came to the rescue - that was an often repeated family story but I'm afraid it wasn't in his memoirs. But now I'll let him tell the story from hereon. I think he would be proud to have known his efforts would be appreciated.
Ps- I've cut some bits about family which are probably only of interest to family and changed my Mom's name for anonymity
I haven't read all his stuff yet, which I took from his old PC hard drive and various CDs and floppy disks. Its not that I don't want to read it, but I like to select a piece every now again and as I read it it's like he's here telling it and to me this keeps him alive - if that makes sense?
The first piece is about the start of the 1950's after he married Mom. Having no place of their own they took the downstairs living room at my Granparent's in Cranespark Road, Sheldon. They can only dream of having their own place and then I come along - so the timing of this post is rather apt as its only a few days off my birthday. The places he writes about would be Elmdon Park, Sheldon Park, Chelmsley Wood (When it was a wood) and Marston Green Maternity Hospital - no specific references but I know their tracks well!
In a later piece they find a house close to my Nan's, an offer is accepted and they get their long awaited mortgage on the same day my Dad is put on short time. Before things get worse, Mom, ever the optimist, takes an evening job in the Sheldon Pub and I'm left in my Dad's capable hands- or maybe not. Even at the age of two I know that we have left the relative comfort of my Nan's house. I guess I should have been long in bed when Mom was working but I can still remember being scared to move from the only chair in the room as I watched Quatermass on an old 12 inch tv my Dad had salvaged and repaired. It had no case and acted as our only living room lamp which was lit with its array of hot glowing valves that reminded me of rockets. Similarly, the radio, another repair job, having no table of its own, was situated on the floor at the back of the room, next to the gas meter. We had no TV licence and the inevitable happened when one day we get a visit from the licensing authority and my Dad comes clean. The inspector must have felt sorry for him and asked if he came back the following day would he have a licence? My Dad tells him straight, that he's skint and this is why he didn't have one in the first place! All was saved when my Nan and Grandad came to the rescue - that was an often repeated family story but I'm afraid it wasn't in his memoirs. But now I'll let him tell the story from hereon. I think he would be proud to have known his efforts would be appreciated.
Ps- I've cut some bits about family which are probably only of interest to family and changed my Mom's name for anonymity