54. 1915 The Search is Over

Two significant events happened in F.A.I.’s life this year.

He met my dear Granny Violet and he joined up to fight for King and Country.

They were both working at the Caledonian Station Hotel, Edinburgh, he was a chef and she was a laundry maid. He was 31 she was 25. Finally he had met the woman for him.

Granny was born in 1890 in Melrose, Roxburgh. By the time she was 10 years old she was an orphan and her brother John had died of meningitis. She moved to Duke Street, Edinburgh with her sister Mary (May) to live with their eldest sister Isabella and her husband.

I feel this photograph of Granny and family must have been taken after the funeral of John no great detective work just looking at the sombre clothing, a young granny at the front and no John !!

To me Granny was always old, I could never imagine her being young.

She would come and stay with us a Christmas and we would complain as we would have to sit and watch all the boring adult programmes, if we chattered we were told to ‘wheesht bairns’ (be quiet kids), she wore her long white hair pinned up and would sit in the evening unraveling the clips and rolling it up again (which whilst fascinating me also scared me slightly because of the witch type look about her hair), she read tea leaves and would collect the plastic toys from Christmas crackers and put them in her handbag (I think have already said she was a hoarder) and she loved a wee dram before bed. She lived in a pensioner’s flat in Liverpool, when I knew her and we were not allowed to go down the bottom of her gardens because ‘there were rats as big as cats down there’

My mothers tales of her, when Mum met Dad in the 1950’s, include how Granny would have ready for Dads tea just a piece of ham and a tomato on a plate as she never cooked (she didn’t need to as Granddad was a chef, when he was away it is a wonder they didn’t starve to death!).

How Mum called one day to the house and my dad and his brother where white washing the ceiling wearing sailor caps, standing on the furniture with nothing covered up, everything had white wash splashes on it.

How she had a cat called Tiddles, oh poor Tiddles, the cat that was never allowed in the house. Mum would let it in only to be shooed out instantly again by Granny.

How layer of lino upon layer pf lino was laid down on the floor, which would be mopped regularly but so would the walls too!. Not a house-proud woman it would seem.

Granny, however, was a kind lady and when Granddad was away she used to take in some children from a neighbouring house who were really poor and would let them stay to ease their overcrowded home, she would give them money, cups of sugar and any thing else she could spare, not that she had a lot herself. But when Granddad was home she would still do it but on the quiet with ‘off you go don’t let Dad know’ (F.A.I. was known as ‘Dad’ and Granny as ‘Nan’ to everyone).

Granddad obviously adored her and he wrote beautiful postcards to her.

When Granny died and Mum cleared out her flat there were bundles of letters tied up with ribbons. They were thought to be personal and were disposed of. A hard decision to make, yes I, as a family researcher would have loved to have them to uncover some mysteries but I also respect the privacy and intimacy they may have contained, so I think Mum did the right thing… (saying that I probably would have read them first!!!)

Violet
Dark is the world without you
Cheerless the dreary hours
Sad is my lonely pathway
Drooping the wistful flowers
Grey are the clouds above me
Starless the skys at night
Day never dawns when you leave
You are my light and my life

What is the world without you
What are the stars above
What are the scented roses
What dear without your love
What is the charm about you
Deep in the boundless sea
What is the world without you
What is the world to me

Yours very truely

FAI