I would spend hours just staring at my Grandad's face. He was one of those people you wish everyone in the world had. A man who was there for you through thick and thin, always with a smile and a kind word. He would collect my brother and I from school in his 'noddy car' as we'd call it - his invalid car, my brother would sit on a stool in the passenger side and I'd sit on a cushion under the glovebox. We'd always be the last ones out of school, and when we eventually got to the car we'd often have to fight through a throng of classmates who'd all shout 'See you tomorrow Grandad' ! You see that's the type of bloke he was - everyone's Grandad.
Why would I stare at his face ? - Coz it was speckled with blue/black dots, some large some small, and I always had an urge to squeeze them (Yes Yuck !! I know!) but they wouldn't budge, he later explained that his face was permanently tattooed with coal dust from his time down the mine.
Arthur Frodsham (1924 - 1991)
