Dedications for my Nostalgia Pages

It is a sad fact that memories only seem to become important as we age.
When I recieved a book from a friend with a pictorial history of Blyth, the town where I was born and raised, I was thrilled and still get much pleasure going through the pages bringing back memories.
It was that book inspired me to write the first memory "A Magical Day"

My first dedication, then, goes to Tony without who's book this would not have started. You can read a little about this 'Sundialing' friend on his website.

The next dedication goes to my wife, the writer.
She endorsed the page without making any corrections or suggestions. (High praise indeed).


And last, but certainly not least, is my grandfather.
Please read on.




A purely fictional graphic depicting my own imagination of my grandfather leaving Blyth for the first time

       Oh how I wish I could sit down with my grandfather now and ask about his life and memories but when I could have done so I was too young, with my life stretching out endlessly in front of me and no time for the past.
       What little I know makes me realise how much I could have learned.

       He was a humorous man who went to sea as a cabin boy at the age of fifteen and remained a seaman all his life. During the First World War he was a captain in the Merchant Marine and after retirement was a lighthouse keeper.

       He was there for the transfer from sail to steam and traveled to India and China and obviously many more places.
       Sailing in those days was slow and must have been boring at times which is probably why he had learned so many skills and hobbies but I would like to have heard about the exotic places he visited as well as watch him make a model ship.

       His obvious love was for sailing ships and his favourite model in his living room was that of a clipper which I believe was his first ship. He never taught me how to put a ship in a bottle but he did teach me to braid a nine strand rope with one hand, splice two ropes together and splice a loop in the end of a rope strong enough to hold a ship.

       He could keep us laughing with his poems that they used to make up on long voyages but alas I can remember none of them.
      
       My grandfather is one of the reasons I decided to put down these few memories of my life, insignificant though they may seem. One day when my grandchildren are my age they will be able to read that I too had a life and possibly find some interest in it.