I am going to write quite a few posts in the coming weeks about my Great Grandfather, William Thompson.
I knew him and remember him very well as he passed away when I was ten. He doted on me and I thought he was the bees knees. I have many fond memories and wicked tales to tell about him as he was a character. Just lately I have been researching more about his time in World War I, during which he won the DCM – that will be a post in itself.
He could be an awkward old sod. I think I inherited my awkward gene from him.
Here is a photo of his wedding day. Even this was something to make the tongues wag. He was 16 years younger than his wife and they went on to have two daughters, the eldest being my Gran.
As a young man after the war he was a farmer and lead miner in the Yorkshire Dales. He met Great-Gran as she holidayed in their village. Her family where marine engineers and based on the north-east coast in Hartlepool.
My granddad was extremely fit and an excellent fell runner (this gene was not passed on!) and one Sunday he once ran to Hartlepool to court her – 35miles!
He was a great dry stone waller and believed as long as you had a spade and a hammer there was nothing you couldn’t mend! I still have his spade and hammer but find they don’t cure computer problems unless you count smashing the damn machines to pieces!
My mum ended her engagement when she fell pregnant (a long story not for here but her choice was very wise at a time when wise was always appreciated) and came home having lived away for college and work.
I was not expected. I only came about because I implanted myself next to a 70’s coil which would have been of more use as a television aerial. On her arrival home and throughout her pregnancy G-Granddad did not speak to her. She was distraught and thought it was some huge judgement on her.
I finally arrived, after a 48hour labour because I don’t like to be rushed, and her first visitor was G-Granddad with a huge bouquet and teddy which totally threw Mum. He was in tears and overjoyed.
The silly old fool had got it into his head that I would be up for adoption (as was often expected then) and he couldn’t bear the thought – that is what the silence had been about to which a confused Mum answered, did he think I was going as some sort of package deal as all the time she had been ‘nesting’ buying in the pram etc. The miscommunication and misunderstanding was immediately forgotten, he was now a Great-Grandfather and fit to burst with excitement of the prospect.
In those days you were only allowed two visitors and visiting times were strictly adhered too. One visitor was permanently G-Granddad. He would get a lift down with whoever was visiting for the morning session, spend the afternoon sat outside with his beloved pipe, before coming back in for the evening session. ‘Come and see the bairn’ he’d say to whoever visited and trotted off the nursery beaming with pride.
I was the immediate apple of his eye. No baby was prettier, brighter or more special. Mum would put me in the pram in the garden, look out of the window and I was gone!
She would ring the post office at the other end of the village "I’d better just check, has my Granddad been past with a pram?" The answer was always yes, he’d push me for miles and miles around the Yorkshire Days, now and then stopping to ask passing visitors and neighbours if they’d seen such a pretty, bright and special bairn before.
Me as a bairn with G-Granddad
And this is the two of us when I was up to toddling
I have his battered old wallet, there was one photo in it - this one of me as wee one, wearing his hat.
Sometimes, even now, I think I can smell the distinctive smell of his tobacco smoke so I’d better make sure these posts are good!
Splendid post for a clearly splendid man.
Posted by: Thursday | 04 August 2006 at 09:50 AM
Aw, what a fantastic post, and what a fantastic person. I've gone all teary. I also sometimes smell tobacco smoke, I think from my Great Uncle, who was a substitute grandfather to us.
Look forward to hearing more about him.
Posted by: Ally | 04 August 2006 at 07:34 PM
What a wonderful post - and he does sound like a wonderful man. I had a lump in my throat when I read the bit about him turning up to see you and your Mum.
A friend of mine was adopted, and her Grandfather was completely against the idea. He even followed her Mother to the adoption agency and tried to talk her out of it. As you can imagine he was overjoyed when she traced her family as an adult and they met up again.
Posted by: Kate | 05 August 2006 at 07:25 PM
Aww. I adored my Grandad and I've just got a bit tearful thinking about him thanks to your great post.
Posted by: Cherrypie007 | 08 August 2006 at 08:33 PM
i know it stands for great-granddad but my mind insisted on reading that part in the style of ronnie barker talking to g-granville.
that aside, it was a lovely post and i am envious as i never knew any of my granddads (except, briefly, my own g-granddad who was in a mental home and referred to the colour purple (the actual colour, not the oprah film [note to self: shut up shut up shut up]) as "heliotrope".
um.
shutting up now.
Posted by: surly girl | 14 August 2006 at 12:02 PM
Hi boys!9b08681141a8b93e6a78daf753574dbd
Posted by: Hi boys! | 01 February 2008 at 03:29 AM