Family Lore

My grandma could milk a cow blindfolded, balanced on a three-legged stool, (Grandma, not the cow), in a stone-walled barn that did little to protect her from the sub-zero temperatures or snow-laden gales outside. I’m equally certain that if she’d been led indoors, still masked, she could have plucked and drawn a chicken just as effectively.

But more recently, if she had been shown into a warm office, with all her senses in place and asked to Google for the current time in Hong Kong, she’d have been nonplussed; panicked even. She’d have announced, “I don’t know anything about these new-fangled things!” Any offer to teach her how to do it would be met with a dismissive wave of the hand and, “You do it.” After a further moment or two she would have added, “Why should I want to know what they’re doing in Hong Kong anyway?”

Good question. I realise that now, but then I would have countered her reluctance to have anything to do with the digital age with scorn. How could anyone not want to surf the web, send messages around the globe in seconds, or check currency rates in preparation for an exotic holiday?

I’ve just published another novel, entitled ‘The Tack Chest’ which was inspired by the discovery of an old photograph, showing a shire horse named Dolly Grey; beautifully groomed and dressed for showing. There is a black lacquered chest on the ground in front of her, bearing my great grandfather’s initials and two silver trophies. When Grandma died the chest was discovered at the foot of her bed, containing bed linen. All that is true and it was enough to set me on course for a new work of fiction. I say fiction, but along the way, I came to realise how much was founded on fact, thanks to the seeds set by Grandma’s reminiscing. She wouldn’t do it often and when she did, it was in an off-handed, self-effacing way, but her tales of the old days and ways, particularly on the farm enthralled us. She took us to places that were as mysterious and strange to us as computers seemed to her.

This brings me back to my earlier point; about modern day technology and in particular, computers. Latterly, I’ve come to realise that before mocking the old folk, we should take a lateral view. Ninety year olds may not have much to do with Ipads and laptops, but they’re ten gig memories on legs, with little time left to share them. Worse, we rarely have the time or patience to sit down and listen. For one thing, their data retrieval is often patchy and slow and affected by viruses. On the other hand, they don’t need plugging in and each new download doesn’t need checking for viruses of the electronic sort. A cup of tea and packet of Rich Tea biscuits should do the trick, or if you will, tea instead of terabytes.

I’ve already stated that the new book is a work of fiction, founded on truth but in fact, when I pass on, I fully expect to be confronted with a queue of ancestors armed with celestial writs. In the meantime I urge you all to go visit the wrinklies and winkle out some of their memories. Then, and this is just as important, pass them onto your children.