Although I’m afraid my words will not do him the justice that he deserves (he was incredibly well read and a truly beautiful writer), I just wanted to share with you all, a little bit of information about my Grandad, William Charles Foster, a truly, wonderful man.
Unfortunately I never got to know him because he died when I was just 18 months old, but here’s what I’ve learnt over the years.
He was, people say, bright, multi-talented, warm and humble. He loved the finer things in life, often got into trouble with my Gran for spending too much money on too many books and made clocks in his spare time.
Incredibly clever but of poor, working class roots, he would have loved to have gone to University but never had the opportunity. He would work or do favours for anyone who needed his skills but yet never accept money for his efforts.
He had a motorbike, loved to cycle and was the life and soul of the party, even though he was an often reluctant guest! And, unlike many of his contemporaries, he survived WWII but yet couldn’t beat the severe stroke that ultimately took his life when he was 70.
He was, my Mum says, “One of the goodest, kindest men you would ever hope to meet.”
We may never have got to know each other, but wherever you are, I just want you to know you’re definitely a part of me. I’ve inherited your shoulders and your love of books and for both of these, I thank you.
On what would have been your 100th birthday, I just want to say: “You make me proud and I love you. Happy Birthday.”