Had lunch with an old college friend on Monday - not seen Bridget in about 22 years! She's lived in Canada since about 1990 - I lost touch years ago but got back in touch through Friends Reunited a year or so ago and, since she was over here visiting family and was in London for the day, we met up for lunch. It was really odd seeing each other in a way, but really nice too. Other than immediate family, I don't now know anyone who knew me in the late '70s/early '80s. We had a lovely chat and Bridget reminded me about 'Impact', the students magazine she edited and, for a while, to which I was a regular contributor. The odd thing is that one of the few things I'm proud of in my current job is an innovative research report on the effects of computers in schools on kids test results (yawn) which was called 'ImpaCT2'. I didn't write it or anything (it was written by miscellaneous professors and colleagues at Becta) but, as far as I'm concerned, it exists because I wouldn't let go of it after we'd paid a quarter of a million £ for it! Is that word - impact - destined to haunt me every 20 years?
Also met Janet on Wednesday evening for one of our outings - a chance to whinge, to chat about developments at work, to put the world to rights, to dis young people, to discuss how fat each of us is, our operations and ailments and latest gadgets, etc. Always a pleasure and a late night!
Had Madonna's 'Confessions' on shuffle on iPod today and thoroughly enjoying it and watching Suzanna Vega's 'Retrospective' DVD of promo videos (for the second time in a row) as I type. I never knew some of the videos even existed so it's a bit of a treat!
I've been lazy enough to get the bus to work so far this week and it drives round Parliament Square past Westminster Abbey with it's garden of remembrance to coincide with Remembrance Sunday. That makes me think of my Granda who lost an arm (and two brothers) in the First World War. I went into the garden last year to look for his old regiment (the Green Howards) and found a small section with little crosses in the grass - I must look this week to see if the regiment is still represented.Granda didn't talk about the war to anyone throughout his life until near the end when he told me stories about it and his family, usually over a pint (or several - plus whisky chasers, of course) with my Uncle Ted in the social club at Blaydon on my infrequent trips north. He told me more than he ever told his own kids - my mother and uncles. I suppose enough time had passed for him to get over it, or to know the end wasn't far off and wanting the memories to go forward? I don't know. I must track down the newspaper articles about how Hitler (personally) tried to kill my wounded Granda in a French barn in 1917 but was fought off by the farm girl who became a freedom fighter in the second war and was on Hitler's 'kill' list. She died, a Heroine of the Republic, in the '80s, which is when Granda's story came to light when he was living in an ex-services home in Crief in Scotland. He was a minor celebrity for a while! Oh, and he went to a Royal Garden Party at Buckingham Palace once but turned down the other invitations - once was enough.
He was a daft old bugger with a magic way with fruit machines and animals, a charming winning way with everyone and kept cans of beer under the bed in case he got thirsty during the night - a real hero! He knew everyone and everyone knew him - except his own family really. Hot toddies for colds always worked. I only got to know him in the decade or so before he died at the ripe old age of 92 - what a world he'd seen changing before his eyes, from horse-and-carts in the quiet, country lanes of Northumberland through the hell of the trenches in the war to jet planes and moon landings. Will any generation see such a massive change as his? I must find a photo of him to post here - I'm sure he'd be thrilled to be on the hinternet!
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