You are reading a single comment by @VanUden and its replies.
Click here to read the full conversation.
London Fixed Gear and Single-Speed is a community of predominantly fixed gear and single-speed cyclists in and around London, UK.
This site is supported almost exclusively by donations. Please consider donating a small amount regularly.
@VanUden
Granddad on my Mum's side was the dead spit for me. If you see a picture of him it's like looking at a picture of yours truly, a bit freakily so to be honest. He was an amateur boxer before he had a real career as such and then got pulled into WW2 like a lot of young men his age. He loved his motorbikes.
He was a commander of a tank in north Africa and made it all the way through El Alamein only to be blown to bits by a random shell after the battle was over when he got out of the tank to give directions to a lost despatch rider. Gran didn't even receive a Telegram informing her of his death. Due to a clerical error the first she knew was when she received a war widow's pension book through the post.
Granddad number 2 on Mum's side was one of Granddad number 1's good mates and had always been sweet on Gran. He also loved his motorbikes and rode until he was in his 70s. I was with him when he died at the Marsden, he was incredibly brave. He was also wrapped up in WW2 and was a Paratrooper with the Royal Engineers and was lucky enough to make it in one piece out of Dunkirk amongst other escapades that he got awarded for. I still have his red berett tucked away - something he was immensely proud of.
He was a simple working class man who went to church, stood up for the Queen's speech at Christmas, and was a gardener his whole working life. Part of my ritual of visiting them was to walk around his garden with him while he pointed out small changes or slight improvements brought on by the seasons and a deep knowledge of a craft. He'd then come out and marvel at whatever motorbike I was riding at the time, exclaiming at how overpowered it was but secretly enthralled.
Gran was a matriarch to the power of 11. She was 5 foot nothing and you wouldn't dare cross her. She boiled her veg to soup but made the most heavenly rice pudding known to man. She'd always slip me 5 or 10 pounds for petrol whenever I came over to visit, and tell me not to tell Granddad. I think he knew exactly what was going on but let her think he didn't.
On Dad's side there was Nan who was a proper cockney being born within the sound of the Bow Bell's and her husband - another Granddad I didn't have the chance to meet - who was also born in the east end. He had a past that the family would never talk about and despite my best efforts to find out more I've always come up against a closed door. Needless to say he vanished / died a very long time ago in uncertain circumstances.