Grandad and I were a team. He dug his garden every day, despite having only one arm. 'I left it in Weepers, Joey, but they've promised to send it on'. Kindly meant, but this gave me dreams of an arm arriving in the post. Braces, big belt, and string around the trouser legs: ‘Keeps out the wermints, Joey’. The soil in Masser Road was black and loamy, having been well fed with soot and welcome gifts from Winnie. My duties were minimal but crucial to success. They included the inspection of worms to determine the longest of the day (only Mr Hood, our personal robin, was allowed to eat any); acknowledging salutes from passing steam engines; and the organisation of regular tea breaks. Each time the colliery train passed, he would take out a large fob watch from a waistcoat pocket, examine it carefully, look at me and shake his head sadly. Never any comment. He never used a mug, but always poured his tea into the saucer and blew on it, before sipping, with obvious and noisy enjoyment. My subsequent attempts to copy this procedure at home met with a disappointing response. One rare social skill was his ability to take a pinch of snuff, single-handedly, during tea breaks. He never smoked: 'They seed the light, Joey, they seed the light'. I longed to play a more active role in our team. One contribution, meant as a surprise, the pruning of roses in the front garden, was not considered a total success, and never repeated. The replacement bush was always known as ‘Joey’s Gift’. Another occasional duty, in wet weather, was cutting copies of the Daily Graphic into suitable sized pieces, which were then nailed to the wall in what was known as 'the lavvy'. Each evening Grandad relaxed before the fire in 'his' chair (which no-one else ever used it) and listened to the wireless with a bottle of stout. Once a week, empty bottles were collected from both grandad and neighbours, and trundled in my trolley round to the outdoor, for recovery of the deposits. These were solemnly given to mother as my wages for the week. Memories can play false, but life seemed more graceful and dignified, with time passing slowly. As a Country we were fighting to survive, times were hard; food was short; yet everyone had time for one another. Smokey Checked by Norton 2004 before transmission with Mozilla Thunderbird