A situation which I understand is not uncommon in the wider world of domestic bliss. Even as I write this, steam pours out grandsons, one in Portsmouth, and the other here with me (albeit in an adjoining room), are engaged in a war of attrition with some unknown foreign power on their x boxes. Frightening to believe that warfare now and in the future is and will be controlled by military powers sitting at x boxes.
Since my last effort at blogging there has been much to mull over in the head. Finding myself being drawn daily towards my roots in St Clears the hub of access to the western delights of Wales little things long lost in the darkness of my brain come leaping out. The wartime activity around the build up to D Day had been dormant until I was jogged into recalling the thousands of soldiers marching about the locality heading towards Pendine and onwards to Normandy. There was also the instance of what we called a bulldozer owned by the Americans being used to clear the roads from snowfall, so that must have been wintertime or a late spring. There was also a great deal of gossip about a young lady who had become dare I say interested in a 'yank' who it seems had camped overnight en route to France.
Apparently the village population increased by one. The date and year is lost for ever. My father was a most laid back sort of chap always willing to oblige any call for help even down to digging graves at short notice. Gave him a hand to complete the job on many occasions totally unaware of the grieving that was happening with the bereaved. It became a sort of routine task which had to be done never mind the weather.
A bit of gardening here and there; general building here and there; anything of help was never a problem for him. A heavy pipe smoker of Ringers Superfine there was considerable dismay if there was a shortage on a Sunday when the suppliers were closed, or worse still out of stock and a need to descend to using Franklin as a substitute. The nerve ends could become quite edgy. One kept out of the way.
Being of the age that lends itself to reminiscence, these thought of yesteryear crop up from all manner of situations. As an example. I took our grandson on his first trip to sea on a ferry to Ireland (a there and back trip) for a fiver. Excellent value. Even there, having the time to look observe and inwardly digest, the huge difference of attitudes of people now against those of my younger years is truly amazing. One could not avoid overhearing the foul mouthed conversations of adults with such young children in their midst belching forth from alcohol fuelled women.
One claimed to have 'got rid of him at last' by allegedly jettisoning her husbands ashes over the side into the Irish Sea. It was probably just an attempt at a joke, but the accompanying cursing left much to be not proud of being Welsh or British. On the other hand the crew of the ferry mostly European was in direct contrast, politeness and well mannered personified. What are we coming to?. I did not grow up with anything approaching a silver spoon in the mouth but I am so relieved to have had the benefit of a disciplined background. The Magistrates Court in the village sat monthly. The most heinous offence was riding a bike without lights. A bit of drunkenness, driving without care. The latter usually resulting from a crash on Blue Boar Square.
A Mr R Harries caused quite a stir by murdering his uncle and aunt and burying them in a kale field. Scotland Yard under the leadership of Det Superintendent Capstick sorted it out, but not before a huge hue and cry to get local people involved in a massive search of the locality.
Having rambled around a little with this entry I need to take a breather and build up a head of steam towards the next effort. I hope it makes a bit of sense. If not it has given me some satisfaction of looking back and comparing should I say 'progress'?.
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