So many thoughts about Grandpa

Grandpa was laughing down at me, and I was grinning up at him. We were in the back garden, the walls of the house looked very red lit by the sun high in the ultra blue sky. I don’t know why we were laughing but I was filled with happiness and love for him. He was in his shirt sleeves, he hadn’t put his shirt collar on yet and the first button was undone, it was definitely a week-end look. He was a handsome man, with a small moustache and his hair brushed back, held in place by some pomade. I would have been about eight or nine and I was full of love for him, and it was undoubtedly true that he loved me, his eldest granddaughter.

In fact this never took place, except in the vivid, happy dream I had last night. It is true that he loved me, I was very much in awe of him because he was strict and could be austere, hiding his kindly intent by a brusque manner of speech. He was meticulous in his dress and grooming, he once told me to make sure when I polished my shoes to make sure I polished the shank on the sole (the bit between the sole and the heel which never touches the ground!)

He came from a lower middle-class family from Littlehampton in Sussex, and obviously was a highly intelligent man and gifted linguist.

Here he is, William Reginald Matthews, always called Reginald or Reg, with his parents, William (Billy) and Fanny, and his younger brothers, Percy, Wilf and Tom. He is the handsome one on the right and, to me, he has an intense, focused look.  Reg attended London Polytechnic and, I believe, was a chartered secretary. He travelled to Brazil and to the Cape Verde Islands, and served in both World Wars, although due to a health problem never saw action. Somehow things went wrong, he was diligent, he was honest, but maybe he was too keen on socialising, maybe he bought too many rounds of drinks, maybe it was the state of the country, but he ended up as a  door to door salesman with a weighty case full of encyclopaedia.

How he met my grandma, Ida is a mystery. She was born and brought up in London, and I can’t imagine how their lives might have crossed – although I have written an imagined account of it. They had a long engagement, seven years apparently, before they married in 1916. Their first child was born in 1918, and they had three more, the last being my mum. From what I know they were such different characters, and although there was nothing horrible between them, his difficulties with managing money left them severely impoverished while struggling to maintain an appearance of respectability.

Grandpa, was stern but kindly, and I think I must have needlessly felt a little intimidated by him. When I woke from my dream, I felt so delighted that I had ‘been’ with him, that he had been happy, and I was happy and confident in his company. I know other people’s dreams can be a bore, but this dream provoked so many thoughts about Grandpa that I just had to write about him.

My featured image is of his youngest child, my mum,  on her wedding day, he’s looking at her with such pride and love, he looks so happy here.