Here's my little memory
Grandad driving the iconic red jazz while I sit in the front beside him feasting on polo mints and fruit pastels were always the best times for me. One particular time he was driving along at his classic steady pace and he was telling stories about dad when he was younger. I was absolutely enthralled by these crazy and hilarious stories of dad falling into various rivers, or eating poisonous berries, or nearly setting fire to sheds. I remember the minute he would finish a story, and I had finally stopped laughing, I would plead for another one and of course he would rack his brain and come up with another hilarious anecdote. I was so impressed by these stories about Dad being a country roughen, that I managed to persuade grandad to come on a walk with me in the woods and attempt to do mischievous things such as moving sign posts and whacking trees with sticks (crazy stuff I know!). 
I loved Grandads stories the absolute most. He told them in such a unique, hilarious and charming way that I would ask for the same one to be retold again and again. A personal favourite is the Anglo Saxon salesman debacle!*

His attention to detail and animation (Bridge over the River Kwai**) was so special to all us grandchildren. The fact he held on to so many memories of the family just shows us how much he loved us all. I will keep retelling those hilarious stories forever (They’re too funny not too!)

* Dad when fed up with salesman calling the house would speak down the phone to them in Anglo Saxon!!

** When the grandchildren stayed, in the morning at breakfast, Dad would enact the scene from Bridge Over the River Kwai where an injured Alec Guiness presses the bomb detonator (or the plunging cafetière in Dad's case) and unfailingly make everybody jump with sudden explosion noises.