Granda Fred

Raymond Clark

Description

Since retirement, Granda Fred has been spending his life in the front room of the small ex-colliery house he shares with his sister, Mary-Ellen. He spends the day sitting at the table, checking out the runners that will bring him a fortune if they win later in the day. With TV and the field out the window, he is lost in his own world until Saturday visits by his daughter-in-law and her three children start.The two boys find Granda Fred looking at an old tin box that appears to contain his late wife's pictures, medals, bits and pieces of paper, and keepsakes. They find that they all have a story both sad and funny to tell.Whilst Granda Fred hates opening up and revealing himself, he finds that by answering all their questions and watching their eyes grow, he finds himself...

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 10 décembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528974493
• Langue: English

Extrait

G randa F red
Raymond Clark
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-12-30
Granda Fred Penny and Saturday A Strange Week for Penny Tin Box Day Why Can’t We Visit? Fred and Mary-Ellen Grandma Jane (To-Be) A Marriage Proposal and the King’s Shilling Back Home and the Wedding A Welcome from the Sgt Ralph, Penny and the ‘Familiar’ Word Ralph’s Visit to Granda Fred A Sunday Visit Fred’s War A Peaceful Life Over the Top Back Home The Baby Fred and Mary-Ellen Death by Firing Squad A Letter to Fred Another Saturday Morning Bilberrying and More The Prisoner More Questions A Grave Visit Ralph and the Call to Arms The Day Training A Week’s Leave
Raymond Clark was born in a small mining village in the North East of England in 1948 and was one of eight children.
In 1963, much to everyone’s shock, as he hated sports and anything physical, he joined the army and enlisted in Newcastle upon Tyne into the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers, later becoming Royal Regiment of Fusiliers.
In 1966, he was sent, along with the regiment, to Aden (now Yemen), where he served for 9 months and where the regiment lost 9 men because of civil unrest.
He saw service in Aden, Northern Ireland (several times), West Berlin, West Germany, Ethiopia, Kenya, Gibraltar, Morocco and Cyprus (UN and UK forces).
One of his most memorable moments was going to Ethiopia with The Regimental Band, meeting Emperor Hailie Selassie and having champagne and caviar with him and his wives at the palace – for a boy from the back streets of County Durham, it was a memory to retain.
He retired from the army in 1988 and worked in the retail, insurance, advertising and charity sectors.
In 2015, he was awarded a British Empire Medal in Her Majesty’s birthday honours list for charity work.
His wife, Cynthia, died in Northern Ireland in 2000; his daughter, Jillian, and her husband, Andy, still reside there.
Raymond now resides in Canada.
He is currently the author of three books, two of which are self-published.
To my daughter, Jillian, and her husband, Andy Thompson.
Copyright © Raymond Clark (2020)
The right of Raymond Clark to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Austin Macauley is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone and portrayed to the best of their recollection. In some cases, names and details have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528974479 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528974493 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
I want to thank you all for enduring the nightmare and frustration, especially as far as the most hated and loathed machine on Earth is concerned, for me, MY COMPUTER, my archenemy and the tester of my patience.
A special thank you to my late cousin, Violet Winter and Cheryl Rafuse for their contributions to the picture of Granda Fred.
Penny and Saturday
It was a Saturday morning, and standing at the kitchen sink looking out of the window, Penny could see that there was a good chance of a spot of rain. But rain never hurts anyone , she said to herself. I wonder how that saying ever came about. Getting back to reality, today was that day again when she had to take the kids to see old Fred and Mary-Ellen. Old Fred, or Granda Fred, was her husband’s father and Mary-Ellen was Fred’s spinster sister . So why did her husband never take the kids , Penny thought. There would be more chance of the moon turning into cheese and even then he would find some excuse to get out of it.
Everyone said that Fred was a cantankerous old bugger and that he had never been the same after having seen service in both World Wars. The first time he had gone away, he’d gone like many other young lads, full of adventure and hope. But then on his return, he was full of disillusionment and hardly ever, like the majority of those who returned, talked about what they had suffered. They just tried to carry on with their lives as best as they could. Then the second war came and they had to go back. The fact that they had to go, they did not dispute. It was the known factor that this time, they each knew what they were letting themselves in for.
Fred had left his childhood sweetheart to go to the first war. Jane was her name. The daughter of the local butcher and lived in a nice semi outside the village. Her father, apparently, was a kind, jovial man, but according to all and sundry, his wife was a social dragon, and if anyone spoke and asked how Janey was, she would rebuke them and tell them that Jane was fine. When Jane had been baptised, her mother had decided that Jane Roberts did not have quite the ring about it, so without consulting with her husband, she had her registered as Jane Wilson-Roberts. Her husband just tolerated her idiosyncrasies and shrugged his shoulders, but the villagers, behind her back of course, would whisper, “Here she comes, Mrs High and Mighty. All fur coat and no knickers. She’s no better than us. Do you know, apparently, on a Sunday morning, she insists that they sit on the front row along with others of like standing such as the doctor and other business owners?”
Of course, Mrs Wilson-Roberts knew what they were saying and she also knew that they were only jealous. Plus, it was highly unlikely that her children would catch something off the children of established members of the community. “Could you imagine the sheer embarrassment of having to purchase a ‘nit comb’? One has to be seen, my dear,” she thought out loud.
Fred and his childhood sweetheart had gone on to have three children, there was Ralph (her husband) and twin girls called Grace and Iris, who were still born. Then, as though that had not been enough, Jane was to die a year later. According to the local gossips, it was at that moment Fred became ‘Old Fred’ the grumpy, miserable loner, who never talked about his past, the war, the twins or even Jane.
“Penny love,” came a shout from the front room, “what are you up to? Are you not going to see Dad today?”
“Don’t worry, pet, I’m going. The world won’t stop if I’m a few minutes later than normal.”
“The kids are getting impatient and the sports will soon be on and you know that they hate that.”
She thought to herself, You aren’t really bothered about the kids or your dad. All that concerns you is getting the non-existent winners picked then listening to the pools results in peace.
“James, George, Claire, get your coats on and make sure that you take something in your satchels to either read or play with, then you won’t get bored and start to fight with each other.”
“But, Mam, why don’t you just take Claire, then me and George can go out and play with the other lads?”
“Just do as you’re told, and anyway, Granda Fred only sees you once a week, so it won’t hurt you to smile and stop asking me the same question every week, you are going and that’s all there is to it. You’ll have a lot worse things to do when you grow up and then maybe your grandchildren will moan about going to visit you. In fact, on thinking about it, I wouldn’t blame them.”
“But he never smiles, and he coughs, and smokes, and blows smoke rings in our faces and he does the other and it stinks.”
“And all he does is sit and look at that old tin box of his and won’t let us anywhere near it,” added George, “and he calls me Georgie Porgie.”
“Be quiet, the pair of you. Why can’t you be like Claire? Now go and say tara to your dad and give him a kiss. See you later, love, and good luck with the horses,” she shouted as they closed the door.
Earlier on, the sky had looked a little downcast, but it appeared now that the sun was trying to break through, so she decided that they would walk. It was only a few miles. The kids did enjoy the walk as they played cowboys and Indians and then they would come to an old stone and metal bridge that crossed a railway line that ran to the pits. They could hear themselves shout and whistle because of the echo, so that kept them busy for a few minutes. Then they passed the allotments where they often stopped for a chat with Dolf, an old friend of Fred’s, and sure enough she heard, “Morning, Penny pet, and how are you and the bairns today then?”
“We’re all fine and you can guess where we’re going, can’t you? What about you and the family?”
“Aye, we’re canny. Mona is on one of her baking sessions and one of the lads has a trial comin’ up for Sunderland Junior team this comin’ week.”
“That’s brilliant news, and if I remember correctly, isn’t the other one into Newcastle?”
“Aye, you’re right, pet, so you can imagine what it’s like in the house when they start. Ah, I took them up to Bedlington Miners picnic, and guess who we saw? We were in the shows on the machines and in came Jackie and Bobby. Ah think, ah was more excited than the lads.”
“You’re just as bad as them, a kid at heart.”
“Why don’t you sit yourself down on the bench for a few moments, ah’ll take the bairns in to see the rabbits, then we’ll pick some flowers and bits of veg for you to take down to Mary-Ellen. Patience of Job has that woman, patience of bloody Job.”
Penny thought, Well, this would add another ten minutes or so to the journey, but it has turned out quite nice and the kids are occupied.
As Dol