A story to tell
I grew up only knowing one set of grandparents, my father's parents. My mum's mother had died of cancer when I was seventeen months old and had spent her last six weeks of life at our home, with me running in and out to her. My grandfather had not come home after being demobbed from the war when my mum's youngest brother was just one month old leaving the family in a right old mess. He and my grandmother never divorced and at one time it was hoped that they would get back together again, but sadly that never materialised. As a result a whole load of family history had gone missing. My Grandad George Thomas was one of a larger family from out Tealby way but we had no photographs, my mum certainly did not know her paternal grandmother as she had died by the time she was born, seemed to remember something about her granddad (my Great Granddad) i.e. that he had a big bushy beard that he used to tease her with by rubbing it into her face which she hated. So I ...