My Grandad Said, a Story in Poetry

When I was a little girl, I sat on my grandfather’s knee

He told me stories of how things used to be.

When he was a teenager, there were no phones.

Instead, there was just one in the family home.

Can you imagine going out unable to communicate?

What do you do when you can’t text to say you’e running late?

No texting, or Whats App messages with your mates

Imagine not being able to send pictures of the food on your plate?

Oh wait, I’ve just had a thought, they’d be no photos on nights out.

You have to use an old fashioned camera, what’s that about?

You would have to learn about shutter speed, exposure and light.

I can just see people holding one of those, no it wouldn’t be right..

How would it work when you were out, I asked Grandad about that.

He said it was it was easy with a Kodak instant camera for every snap.

Well I told him that it all sounded far too complicated to me.

He laughed and laughed, and I don’t know what was funny.

And, you will never guess what else he told me about the past?

There was no Facebook, Instagram, or TicTok. I was simply aghast.

They had no tablets, streaming services, or games online.

In fact, he said, there was no internet, or anything at that time.

Another thing that Grandad said when he was small.

You could only get cash from a bank and not through the wall.

Pubs shut at eleven and the night clubs, they shut at two.

I don’t know how we’d manage, or what we’d do.

I think life in Grandad’s time sounds kind of boring.

He said they spent their lives outdoors exploring 

They build dens, climbed trees and played on their bikes.

Which, when you think about it, it does sound kinda nice.

His stories told me about simple and hard working lives.

It made you value things and see life through different eyes.

Perhaps, maybe life back then wasn’t that bad

He said that people today just make him feel sad.

Those little chats I had with my precious Granddad.

He opened my eyes to the past, for which I’m glad

Now times have changed and I tell stories from my knee

To my grandchildren, who sometimes have hard time believing me.

Karen J. Mossman