Permission To Marry


Excerpt from my grandfather’s WW1 file.

One hundred years ago this weekend, Saturday, November 23, 1918, my maternal grandfather, recovering in England from wounds sustained in September during the Second Battle of Arras, was ‘granted permission to marry at public expense”.

I imagine that were he alive today he may point out that although it did not cost him anything to get married, he spent the rest of his life paying the price: my grandmother was a strong person, to put it mildly.

He was a hardworking man who, as was the case in the late fifties, was retired from his civil service job on his sixty-fifth birthday. Before he had a chance to drive his wife around the bend, or she him, he returned to work in the private sector for several years.

Here is a link to a post I published about the many phrases he was wont to use.

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Published by DCMontreal

DCMontreal - Deegan Charles Stubbs - is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

One thought on “Permission To Marry

  1. That was lovely, Deegan. I remember him as a very quiet man, though on one occasion when he was quietly playing solitaire and nana or Aunt Madeline mentioned the war, he looked up and said, “Yes I remember that. They lined you up and shot at you!” Then he went back to playing cards. Linda

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

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