
Originally Posted by
57vintage
Grandas are ace. I had as one a railwayman and trade union activist who loved Elvis, according to Ma. I can just remember him - I was 3.5 when he died aged 58. A German POW camp took away his best years. My paternal granda was a hard-working Banffshire crofter. The day before I went to school in April 1962, I remember sitting on a slidy metallic mudguard on his Fordie petrol-paraffin tractor as he ploo'ed his park before seeding it. It's now Keith Golf Club's 9th fairway. Shoulda left it in corn. He got to 90, despite the hardship. A kind and generous mannie. I am named after both.
My grandson thinks his Granda is ace. He and I live in The Beano around the mid-60s. Cushions balanced on doors, cactus plants on seats, carelessly-dropped banana skins, the Laurel and Hardy custard pie fight, and looking through the letterbox only to be soaked by a postie with a water pistol (they also hide, water soaker-equipped, inside pillar boxes, the crafty bstds). Any potentially-tricky situation can be undone by shouting "Yikes" to avert the peril.