A Good Innings

 Hello there,

Last week my granddad, always known to us as Grandpop, died. So, my commentary on the South West has got a bit delayed. 

Instead I give you this little poem I wrote all about this incredible man who I shall miss.

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A Good Innings

92 years and 3 weeks is not a bad innings for someone who had sunlight treatment as an infant because he was failing to thrive.

It is not a bad innings for a kid who lived through the London blitz of World War II.

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It is not a bad innings for a charming young soldier on National Service,

who sometimes forgot to bring his cap, and had to travel all the way home again to be properly attired; 

and at other times won Athletics competitions,

whilst helping Hamburg rebuild after the War.

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92 years and 3 weeks is not a bad innings for a life-long Gooner and Eagles fan, who tenaciously gobbled up tennis and cricket, football and bowls.

The excitement of those victories, bouncing back from disappointment again and again. To relish the next fixture with equal excitement.

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92 years and 3 weeks is not a bad innings for a man who shared his house with his mother until the day she died…that requires perseverance and strength.

So too to love and care, full-time, for another in your own twilight years; because you said you would ‘love and cherish’, and you meant it.

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92 years and 3 weeks is not a bad innings with 5 grandchildren to worry about. Always anxious; that we were happy, enjoying our work, and being kind to each other.

Your parting cry of ‘If you can’t be good, be careful’ would grace us on departure as children. I didn’t understand it then, but I understood the love there, that we should take care, and have a lot of fun along the way!

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92 years and 3 weeks is not a bad innings for a man who boarded the tube in his seventies, and the bus in his eighties to go on adventures, to London, to school plays and museums, to cricket matches, and even the Ritz.

And its truly not a bad innings when you leave your home town permanently, for the first time, at the age of 88!

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92 years and 3 weeks is not a bad innings when you predate the NHS, and have two big brothers, when you believe in duty, but also in dancing; when all you really want to know for certain is that the kids are alright…

92 years and 3 weeks is a good innings.

Grandpop at the Ritz in 2009.