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Jenkin Palm Watkins (Grampy Jim) and Albert Gordon Thatcher (Bampi Gordon)
My Grandfathers.
(Copyright Claire Lindsay-McGrath 2013.) |
The above image of my two Grandfathers was lovingly restored for me by a good friend Ashwood Williams, it is an image which was taken just after the end of WWII, in fact Jim (Grampy) is wearing his Royal Navy issue tee shirt in the photo.
As a history student I spend much of my time studying events and lives of people that I have never and will never meet; events which happened centuries or decades ago. Even though I am able to empathise or see injustice in past events such as the 1838 Husker Pit disaster where 26 children between the ages of 7 to 17 drowned (GALLOP, A. (2010). Victoria's Children of the Dark. Stroud: The History Press.), I am able to detach myself from such human experiences. However, I have recently started to consider my own heritage, and recent events bring me to the above image.
Last week, 25th September 2013, my paternal Grandfather (left on image) sadly passed away at the age of 86. Up until that point I had proudly proclaimed that at 38 years of age I was lucky enough to have all of my Grandparents still with us. I genuinely felt very fortunate and secure because of this. This has made me think about how much I actually knew them. My maternal Grandmother, Mammag (her name is actually Margaret Thatcher!) is full of stories about life in Nantyglo, taking in evacuees during WWII, my Great Grandfather being a card carrying Communist, moving to Cheltenham then back again and finally settling in Abergavenny. However the rest of my Grandparents I know only snippets of information and stories; except for the story of this photo.
When I was a nosey child, probably about 12, I was having a rummage through my maternal Grandparents sideboard and I came across a photo of two cheeky looking and attractive gentlemen. I recognised them straight away as both being my Grandfathers. I asked my Bampi (right on image) when and where it was taken but all he could remember was that it was after the war on a day out somewhere. I asked if I could have the photo and was given the response "yes, one day". That day came late in 2012 when my Mum handed me an envelope stating "Bampi said you could have this, it's a photo but you can't see anything". To cut a long story short, the photo had deteriorated so much that it was virtually completely black, I was so dissapointed. All was not lost, my friend Ash saved the day and restored the image to that which we can see today.
This image, as far as I'm aware, is the first photograph which documents the parallel lives these two men lived. At the time this photo was taken Jim and Gordon had just left the Navy, post WWII where they had served together, neither were married, footloose and fancy free so to speak. Jim was from Shirenewton, Monmouthshire and Gordon was from across the border in Peterchurch, Herefordshire. When I took the restored photo to my Grampy Jim for him to see, his face lit up, "I remember that day well", and had a little chuckle to himself. They had been on a day trip with a couple of other friends to Chepstow Races when they found they were running out of petrol. This photo was taken in Shirenewton when they stopped to get fuel. I'm sure this was one day of many, both went on to marry and eventually found themselves living next door to each other in Derwen Way, Abergavenny and working together in Pen-y-fal Hospital as charge nurses. Both had two sons and one daughter, in fact my paternal Auntie Jen was sat at the bottom of the stairs waiting like a good girl when my maternal Uncle Andrew was being born. This meant that my Mum and Dad (both the eldest sibling) grew up living next door to each other. Eventually Jim and Bet moved house, just a few streets away. There it may have ended except that their children, my Mum and Dad, married each other and and had me and my sister. Jim and Gordon would now forever be in each others lives.
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Left to right: Gordon, Margaret, me, Bet, Nanny Hellings, Jim.
Holy Trinity, Abergavenny 1975. |
Their parallel lives went on, work, retirement, grandchildren, great grandchildren and then old age. Gardening, heart attacks, pneumonia, Jim and Gordon even had exactly the same cancer - tumors on their bald heads. Except last Wednesday their parallel lives ended. Still living just two streets away from each other, Grampy, after a period of long illness and suffering finally fell asleep for the last time, at home where he belonged, surrounded by those he loved. Sweet dreams Jim, goodnight God bless x.
I got my sense of humour from these men, wicked, dry and often offensive. I got my ability to drink copious amounts of alcohol and still be 'fully' functioning the next day. I was taught to be brave (after picking up a hot poker from the fire and refusing to cry like a baby). I learnt how to take the truth (after being told I had legs like tree trunks). I learnt that the women of the family needed to have a sense of humour ("Dirty Gerty from number 30", my Grampy got me to chant at Grandma, whose real name is Gertrude and not Bet). I learnt that you should never take yourself too seriously, you will only stress yourself out. I learnt to be curious, and to be a hard worker, always work hard for your family. I learnt that family is always there for you (after being bullied for years and beaten up in Bailey Park, I ran straight to Grandma and Grampy's). I learnt to be me, but with a little bit of them (and Mammag and Grandma too). Now a grown woman, a mum, a wife, a worker and a history student, I know these two gents are as proud of me, as I am proud of them.
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My Heritage.
Margaret and Gordon Thatcher, Me, Guy, Bet and Jim Watkins, and Elena Hardulak.
Holy Trinity, Abergavenny June 2011.
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By the way, Grampy Jim got his unusual name, Jenkin Palm, because he was not expected to survive when he was born. He weighed less than a bag of sugar when born and was baptised straight away, and named Jenkin after the vicar and Palm, because he was born on Palm Sunday. Well done on the 86 years Jim! xx