My great Grandfather fought in the First World War. When he joined the troops abroad in 1917 he left behind his wife, pregnant with my Nan, and his 8 children. News of the baby’s safe arrival reached him by telegram and I would have loved to have seen his reaction when he read ‘3 babies – twin girls, 1 boy’.
Grandad was injured in France and invalided out of the war with respiratory problems and his health was never the same. It’s 20 years since he passed away and it makes me sad to think that even those we love dearly become part of our history and begin to slip from living memory.
I have 15 years of memories with my Grandad. George was not so lucky. His Grandad died before he was born but the stories that have been shared with him have given him some insight into who George Senior was and what he cared about. And in some ways not being influenced by memories of his Grandad as an old man has enabled him to have a better understanding of who he was as a young man. The dreams he had, the things he struggled with and the interests they would have shared. For me this photograph sums that up and if you know my George you’ll understand why (and be able to spot his Grandad)