Ralphie

At college today I was asked to write something short and informal about someone who was or had meant something to me. I chose to write about my grandpa. I have also chosen to post it here for prosperity......so here goes.....




Ralphie


My Grandpa, John Ralph Welsh. Known to most as Ralph but to his cheeky young granddaughter as Ralphie.

My grandpa was one of the most loving men I have ever known. He was also one of the most special people I had around in my early years. I would spend most weekends following in his shadow. I loved to be with him.

He was a Yorkshire man, with one of the most broad accents I had ever heard. He had a strong imposing voice but came across as such a quiet man.

I can picture him now, sitting in his big blue chair, positioned at just the right angle so he could keep a careful watch out of the front window and an eagle eye on what was going on in the world outside. His grey hair would glisten as the sun shone through.

My Grandpa was my mum’s dad. He struggled in the first few months of my life to accept he had a granddaughter. My mum was unmarried and still living at home when she gave birth to me. As he saw me growing up I must have grown on him as what started as a reluctant acceptance soon grew into complete and unconditional love. I always remember him showering me with attention and affection. He was a very demonstrative man.

I can never remember him having a ‘proper’ job. He was a bit of an odd job man and frequently I used to go with him on what I saw as adventures. On days when he was a chimney sweep it would be my job to stand outside and shout when I saw the sooty brush push a puff of black dust out of the top of the chimney, a job for which I would be rewarded with a shiny new 10p.
On the days when he was a gardener it was my job to follow him around with a small yellow plastic child’s bucket collecting snails that had been devouring his clients most precious blooms. For this I would be rewarded with afternoon tea and homemade cakes.

When he didn’t have work we would walk for hours, him leading the way with some random branch he had found that would serve as a walking stick for the afternoon’s outing. As we walked we would pick the sticky blackberries that grew in the hedgerows. We wouldn’t usually return home with many (if any at all) but our purple fingertips and lips would give the game away that we had eaten them all on the way back.

My grandpa was an indulgent man, he would let me put tiny pigtails in his coarse hair and I would comb his eyebrows, all the while giggling as they were the longest eyebrows I had ever seen. He wore glasses and when we played cards he would smile to himself and wink at me as he knew I was cheating and checking out his hand in the reflection in them. But never once did he stop me.

He taught me to dance too. He would whiz me around their tiny cluttered living room to music played on his ancient record player. Louis Armstrong’s "What a wonderful world" being his favourite. I don’t think I have ever felt happier than I did during these moments and that song will always bring a smile and a warm feeling into my heart whenever I hear it.

My Grandpa died 5 years ago and I still miss him. What he did for me may not seem important to anyone other than myself but the love he showed me taught me how to show love for others, and for that I will be forever grateful.

New year, New start.......and another go at this blogging thing

After taking the first step and plucking up the courage to have a go at this blogging lark I very quickly lost my bottle and it has sat here for much longer than it should have done without being touched.
I found the thought of others being able to read what I had written rather intimidating. What if it wasn't good enough? What if I came across as a bit of a numptie who couldn't compose a complete sentence without a mistake? What if maybe I gave just a bit too much of 'me' away and my web buddies decided I wasn't all they thought I was after all?

See all that is kind of my problem. I think too much and worry far too much about what others may think of me. Its hard not to though isnt it? In a world that can be so judgemental and competitive, not fitting in and making the grade is a worry and instead of putting myself out there I find myself not saying anything at all in fear of saying the wrong thing.

I have decided that has got to change!

Anyhow, after being super brave (well maybe just a little bit brave) and taking the decision to become a governor at the button's primary school things have kind of snowballed. I'm still struggling to catch up with the changes that I have made but I must say I'm loving every minute.
That first step showed me that maybe, just maybe I was capable of functioning in the big wide world outside of my cosy and safe living room.

An innocent conversation about education with my bestest of forum buddies over on the (3rd reincarnation of the) shut up Carole thread led to me being very much encouraged to do something that I have dreamed about for a number of years.
For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a midwife. I cant even explain why but for some inexplicable reason I feel it is kind of my calling. Its just something that in my heart I crave to do.
So one dreary morning in November I phoned the local college and enquired about an access course. That in itself felt like a huge ordeal, picking up the phone and talking to a stranger is a bit scary....But I did it.
After yet more encouragement I decided to go the the open evening just to get a little bit of advice. Much to my surprise I was given an application form, Told to fill it in and was invited to and interview and assessment day 2 days later. I didn't really have time to get nervous. I just went along with it.
A week later I got a letter telling me they were pleased to be able to offer me a place *cue Chockie bricking it*

During this time I had also decided to apply for my first job in over 10 years. Again much to my surprise I breezed through the interview for that too and was offered a position on the bank staff as a HCA with the local hospital with the hope of it leading to some shifts on maternity. I'm still waiting for a few formalities to be completed before I can start but I'm feeling good about it.

I started college this week and I have to say I'm loving it. I feel like a grown up again. I was scared of feeling like that quiet little girl who I was when at school Scared to open my mouth in case what came out made me look foolish but its nothing like that. I love having other grown ups to talk to. I feel I'm coming into my own. I have an opinion and when I speak people stop and listen to what I'm saying. Sometimes they agree, Sometimes they don't, but that doesn't matter as they respect me for having an opinion anyway. What I have to say is valid and people want to hear it and in that I feel validated. I am a person again.

I feel new again, I'm excited for the first time in a long time and I'm looking forward to what the future may hold.

I have a few people I want to thank while I'm here and they are my forum buddies.....So in no particular order, to Balders, Bertie, Mikey, Miniluv, Janet, Kitty, Plausy, Scots and poblet......And any others I may have missed.....Thank you. You have all helped make me the person I feel I am today. You have supported and encouraged me and listened to my silly insecurities and worries without complaint. Without you all I would still be sad, lonely and feeling like the future had nothing exciting to offer me.
Right now I cant wait to see what's coming next.