Stanley - the chap with the coin tray purse in his National Trust bum bag

​

This is my Granddad.

It’s not like, cos my Granddad was a person and this is a picture. 

But it is correct that he used to have a bum bag hanging off him quite frequently when we were kids. 

Contained within it was all sorts of important business: car keys, his coin tray purse.

Debbie: 'Coin tray purse? What is one of them when it's at home.'

I asked the internet and it looks exactly correct, so I must be right.

Debbie: 'Well done.'

I met my Grandad in 1987. He was likely very excited to meet me.

At the time he was certainly taller than me, but I managed to make some progress in this, over the coming years, and eventually he lost a yard of pace and then they said he could have a can of John Smiths in the hospital and he remembered who I was immediately, the moment that I walked round the corner. 

He was born in Blackpool, possibly, and then his Granny brung him to York cos his Mam was busy doing other stuff. His Granny died in his 20's and he went into lodgings. Then he met my Granny at Rowntree's.

According to my Granny, she was cleaning out her glue pot when he asked her out and she knocked him back.

I can't remember why. It might be that he asked her to go to a dress rehearsal of a Gilbert & Sullivan something or other, and she wasn't having it. I think she said this.

Anyway, according to Granny, my Granddad, real name Stanley, used to sing in pubs, and she used to accompany him on piano sometimes. I have had it instilled in me quite firmly by my Dad that this could all be incorrect, as my Grandmother was a particular age when she stated it to us. 

She said she wasn't up for drinking though, so she used to just get a packet of fags for payment. 

I mean, this all could be nonsense - it certainly sounds fanciful - but as you can see from the picture, my Granddad was quite a fancy chap. 

Observe that bum bag - contemplate its contents - get a load of them pins. 

...

Tired now.

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