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Introduction

So how did this book ever come to be? Well, my wife Madge had been urging me to help her discover information about her ancestors. Her mum and dad had said little to her or her brothers about them, other than to fend off any enquiries. Then, with the passing of both of her parents, she became intensely curious to learn about her family roots.
After perusing library records and census surveys, I eventually sat in a chair with a piece of paper in each hand. In my left was a copy of the birth certificate for Frederick Arthur Lenton, my wife’s grandfather. In my right hand was a copy of his death certificate. I gazed from one document to the other. A whole lifetime was sandwiched between the two but we knew scarcely anything at all about him.
If he was anything like the rest of us, his life would have been crammed with memories of ecstatic highs and desperate lows; of children and laughter; of problems and tears. And judging by what was listed under ‘cause of death’ perhaps a few closet skeletons. Now he was just a name with a few entries on a couple of pieces of paper. Nothing existed to explain the real person or the life he led.
His immediate family would have known about him, of course, but now they were also gone and left no record behind. Even the few photographs that had existed had been destroyed along the way as time had crunched inexorably onwards. Now my wife, his descendant, his blood, his genes, was trying in vain to find out about him. If only he had passed some messages across the years. If only he had written down his experiences.

You can see what’s coming. I didn’t want to end up like that. I didn’t want to be a few brief lines on a couple of pieces of paper so my descendants might ask in vain. ‘Who was this chap?’ and ‘What’s his story then?’ There and then I resolved to provide the answers up front by writing a book. Hopefully not to create more questions than answers but to tell a tale of how it really was or at least how things appeared, as I perceived them to be.

I had for some time before the above defining moment contemplated putting pen to paper. My original intention had been to write a book about our dogs and how my initial prejudices against the species were overcome by their unconditional affection and personalities. However, this now changed as I recognised the need to put that story into the wider context of our whole family and their lives together. To develop it into the tale of the family itself (including the canine members) and the key events and incidents occurring over the years.

The sad passing of relatives also made me acutely aware the knowledge they possessed, regarding their life and times, was also being lost. Although I couldn’t take on the huge task of writing a set of family biographies, I resolved to include anything from a few sentences to several pages about each one I had the opportunity of talking to. Just to draw some comparisons between their lives and with my own upbringing and also that of my children.

So now the book encompasses the background and story of how we (‘we’ being my wife, family and I) came to be and lived our lives. All this intertwined with the stresses and disharmonious interactions of a home full of humans (2 parents and 6 children) and a menagerie of lesser(?) species, struggling to put up with each other in and around the city of Portsmouth on the south coast of England.

Unfortunately, this book can only reflect our lives up to the time of writing. As such it can never be complete, as every event occurring afterwards will be missing. Therefore I apologise to the children, wives, husbands, friends and relatives who are yet to come, or are around now and who I have somehow omitted or dealt with in an incomplete manner. Perhaps one of them will take up the baton from me and produce another volume describing their own life and times?

I’ve tried to make the story of my family light hearted where I could. Putting the ‘fun’ into ‘dysfunctional’ you might say. I have selected anecdotes that were either humorous or dramatic to add a little spice.

You may also wonder about the presentation style of the book. Some say books these days don’t have numbered subsections or are organised in this particular way, unless they are school textbooks or extreme flights of fancy. Well I’m afraid, as a trained computer person, my brain only works in a highly methodical way. I am only able to put words together if it’s in an organised manner. If I didn’t put numbered sections in and set it out this way, then this book would be just incoherent ramblings, instead of structured incoherent ramblings.

The style also changes from being factual and formal in places and downright frivolous in others, to give an overall ‘pot-pourri’ of selected individuals, their life and times. Certain Chapters when looked at side by side just don’t belong together in the same book from the style viewpoint. However the big advantage of writing just for oneself and a family audience, with no pretensions as to the work becoming a best seller or the basis of a film script, is you can do just about anything you want to and that’s exactly what I have done and I make no apology for it.

Just one more thing. Madge’s dyslexia, that leads to her tendency to get mixed up between left and right and getting other things similarly confused, simply adds to the general impression of ‘dottiness’ she gives out and makes her personality appealing; thus inspiring my protective instincts towards her. It is therefore with nothing short of the deepest love and affection I make the overtly rude comments about her I do in several (oh alright, lots of) places in this book.

So, warts and all, here is my poor but well-intentioned effort to describe my life and those most closely connected with it. Please buy the book and read on ……………

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