Grandma learns to use a computer with the help of her grandson.Her memories are a source of pleasure and inspiration to each of them as they develop their relationship.
In the past Edna has developed a system to keep her memoirs in order. She stores them in boxes. David uses this habit to improve her understanding of saving data in computer files. This helps with his school work and with grandma’s computer course at the local library. 
‘It’s amazing how much you can learn from the family archives ,’ David explains to his mum.



Golden Surfer

By John Headford



Copyright John Headford October 2011
All rights reserved



Smashwords Edition



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* * * *

Edna steadily worked her way through the bundle of black and white photographs taken in the sixties. Money had been much tighter then. No holidays abroad. Watching the dolphins’ at Morecombe Bay Sea World proved to be a spectacular day out. Jim had been alive. They both loved the area and had often taken holidays at Blackpool. Long walks down the promenade included the thrill of a small gamble at the pier amusement arcade. In the evening they made their way to the Pleasure Beach where they screamed their way around the Big Dipper. Edna’s daughter, Pat, had been twelve years old. She loved the sea and the hustle and bustle of the packed beach. Tears began to form as the memories flooded back. Reaching deeper into the box she found the kiss-me-quick hats they had worn riding the donkeys. Jim had laughed that day, great belly laughs as he was shaken from side to side on the donkeys back. She recalled riding back to the B&B on the rickety promenade tram and the sweetness of the Horlicks drink for supper before putting Pat to bed. Edna’s bones cracked as she changed position on the hard backed chair. She carefully placed everything back into the cardboard box labelled Nineteen Sixty Five. Handling the contents reminded her of the sights and noises of her youth. She could almost smell the fish and chip teas each time the photo of their favourite café made it to the top of the pile. Edna placed the box lovingly back with the others in her front room. She heard a loud knock and without waiting for so much as a shouted ‘come in’ her daughter barged through the back doorway into the kitchen
 ‘Yoo-hoo,’ the shouted hello echoed around the family home, ‘Mum where you are?’
‘I’m here love,’ replied Edna, as she walked out of the front room. The terraced house had a simple layout. The front room separated from the dining room and kitchen by the stairs that led up to the two bedrooms. Edna sat down in her high backed chair, next to the fireplace, perfectly placed to watch the television.
‘What have you been up to today?’ asked Pat.
‘This and that, sorting things out, I read a bit of my library book. Have you bought a paper?’
‘Straight from the corner shop,’ Pat passed the Daily Express. 
‘Are you meeting David from school?’ Edna adored her grandson and he loved her. They shared lots of fun. She tried to teach him the very best values in life. 
‘Mum, I’ve got to work overtime on Saturday. Can David stop with you? Will that be OK?’ Pat made a point of asking her mum although she knew with absolute certainty what the answer would be.
‘Of course he can. We’ll have a proper dinner. Lamb stew and dumplings. Maybe he can help me with my computer lessons!’
‘Computer lessons,’ Pat looked at her with surprise, ‘mum what have you been up to now?’
‘Not a lot,’ Edna chortled as she used the magician’s catch phrase, ‘not a lot.’ She had loved that entertainer, what did they call him? She thought back to the eighties and remembered Paul Daniels. Yes that was the phrase; you’ll like this… but not a lot. Looking at her daughter’s exasperated face made her smile. With pride she said, ‘I’ve joined a class at the library. Basic Computing for Pensioners, that’s what it said.’
‘But you haven’t got a computer.’
‘I don’t need one,’ replied Edna triumphantly, they have them at the library. The class is every Tuesday afternoon for twelve weeks; it starts next week.’ She looked at Pat and could see all sorts of doubts and questions in her face. ‘It’s free!’ 
‘But mum, you need to practice.’
‘Well that’s where David comes in. He’s got a laptop hasn’t he?’
‘Yes but he plays games on it.’
‘And now he’s going to help me. He will love it. Tell him to bring it on Saturday. I want to learn how to play his games. I’m going to be a Golden Surfer.’
‘You mean a Silver Surfer.’
‘Do I? Why settle for silver when you can have gold? No I think I’m going to be a Golden Surfer. It sounds much better for someone my age.’

* * * *

Out shopping the next day Edna looked at the queue ahead of her and nearly decided to turn around, leaving the purchase of a book of stamps for another day. The elderly customers patiently waited, resigned to accepting the delay in an already boring day. Did it really matter she asked herself. Nodding her head to the occasional familiar face her thoughts drifted. It had never been like this in the eighties. You could go to the Post Office, pay for your papers and have a chat to Mrs Burrows. Lovely woman that. Always had a smile and an encouraging word to make you want to come back. Nowadays you would be lucky to receive a civil hello, never mind the ‘hurry up’ attitude from behind the glass screen on the counter.
‘Makes you wonder what it will be like when they close it down and we have to walk into the town centre.’
 Edna overheard the snippet of conversation from a gentleman three places in front of her.
‘Hopeless idea if you ask me. Did you add your cross to the petition?’
The reply had come from behind her. Yes, Edna thought, this little community has a major change in front of it. No bank; that closed a year ago, now the Post Office would be gone. She watched the flickering flat screen monitor above the counter advertising credit cards and low cost loans.
‘Time was you could just come and collect your pension and post a few letters. Now you’ve got to wait behind all the Post Office Bank customers,’ she said with a sense of outrage. 
‘That’s right love,’ said the man in front of her. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he joked. 
‘I can,’ said a woman from behind, ‘it’s all this new fangled technology. They use it to make more and more money out of us. When it doesn’t suit them, they close everything down.’ 
Another exasperated customer said, ‘come on, come on, I’ve got a bus to catch.’
Edna listened to the grumbling for a while then lost interest. She knew she had to wait. Her mind drifted, she thought of her box labelled The Children. Inside it could be found all the documents she had saved for Pat and David. Pat had been born in the evening. She remembered being rushed into the hospital at four o’clock. The birth had taken place at eight and by the time she and the new baby had been taken back to the ward it was midnight. Edna recalled the weeks of waiting followed by the elation of the birth. Jim returned home but had no one to share his excitement with until the morning. He sat down with paper and pen and made a record of everything that happened. The story of that night was stored in the box. Edna only needed to pick up the pages to smell the gas and air used to ease the pain. Jim cradled her head as she lay undignified in the stirrups. She imagined the nurse’s friendly face and how it became fearsome when she urgently ordered Edna to push. Yes it would all be documented in the box. What did Jim say? ‘It was a very special delivery. He now had two girls to love and adore.’ And he had given his all to them until his last breath two years ago. 
The queue shuffled forward. Looking back it stretched out of the door. Edna moved with the flow. Smiling as the thought the tide of humanity came to mind. Her box had lots of official documents in it: the birth certificate, the record from the Baby Clinic and a certificate recording the godparent’s commitments. All tied together with a piece of ribbon. What ever happened to Pat’s godparents? Her thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of movement in the doorway. An oversized woman pushed through and started walking down the line of serving points. Edna recognized Angela Taylor straight away. An old school chum. They had not seen each other for nearly ten years. Well, well, thought Edna, who would have believed it, she has put on a lot of weight. Anticipating their meeting she started to smile, but Angela walked straight to a man already being served at the counter. There were another two people to be served before Edna. 
‘She’s pushed in. Angela Taylor has jumped the queue,’ Edna blurted it out before she had thought about the impact.
The overweight woman slowly turned around and looked for the accuser. Fastening her eyes on Edna she pointed at the man and calmly said, ‘we’re together.’ She held the man’s arm and ordered a dozen First Class stamps.
Edna felt embarrassed. It was so unlike her to say anything in this sort of situation. Meek and mild had always been her best and worst characteristics. No one else said a word. The heavy silence continued until Angela and her man walked out of the door.
‘Next,’ a shout from the counter demanded attention. Edna rushed obediently to take her place. She made her purchase and left the long queue of onlookers behind. Feeling their eyes on her back she walked quickly and bumped into the couple who had been waiting outside.
‘Do I know you? asked the overweight woman.
Edna looked Angela straight in the eye and said in a cold voice, ‘no we obviously never knew each other. You looked like a friend I once had.’ With the stinging comment she turned and almost ran away. She was fuming. How dare they ambush her outside the post office? How could that woman push in front of the queue? She felt justified in speaking out. What a pity she’d not given her a piece of her mind. The problem was that she never had enough practice in being angry and nasty. In her mind she pulled out a box and threw the memory of Angela into it. ‘There, that’s dealt with the problem,’ she said to herself. The box label read, People I Want to Forget. Edna rarely removed anyone from this box.

* * * *

The ball bounced so quickly that David missed it. He prepared himself to receive the service again. He missed it once more. The game should have been easy to win. His opponent was new to computer Ping Pong but he found himself struggling. Using the other games controller his Grandma seemed to have grasped the fundamentals of the game. She served again. This time David managed to hit the ball back. 
Edna had not expected David to visit her so early. She had missed breakfast with his arrival at nine thirty in the morning. He had been so enthusiastic to teach her the computer game she had taken on the challenge straight away. To her surprise the game seemed easy. Her game tactic was to win quickly so that she could eat a bowl full of porridge. There it was again, a horrible rumbling noise from her stomach.
‘Grandma,’ David laughed, ‘you’re making some funny noises this morning.’
‘It must be fear dear,’ replied Edna. ‘Fear of losing to such a skilled player.’ Actually she was scared of winning and having to play another game. ‘Have I any chance of taking a break David? Just to let you describe your school project. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘OK,’ he replied, relieved not to lose the game, ‘I’ll set it up again later.’
It always amazed Edna how quickly David could change from one activity to another. Before she had reached the kitchen he seemed to be deeply involved in some type of car race. The games controller had changed from a tennis paddle to a steering wheel. It all seemed very real. What had David called it, virtual reality? She poured the porridge into a bowl, made the tea and placed it all on a tray. 
‘Here we are,’ she carried the tray into the room. ‘I want you to help me with my computer lesson this week. Are you good enough to teach me?’ She threw down the challenge hoping to make him say yes.
‘Good enough! Grandma,’ he looked at her as though she had broken his heart, ‘I’m an expert.’
They both laughed at his reply. She knew he could be depended on. 
‘Now tell me Grandma, what are you doing at the library?’
‘I’m learning word processing. The funny thing is that every time I finish writing and the next person uses the computer my work disappears and I have to start again.’
‘The next person, what do you mean?’
‘We have to share a computer. There are six laptops and twelve students.’
‘Ah,’ David said understanding how the class had to co-operate. ‘When you finish and before your partner starts you should save your work. Have they showed you how to do that?’
‘In the Files but I don’t really know how they work.’
David thought for a while before answering, ‘Grandma, you know how you keep lots of your letters and photos in boxes?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s what you do in the computer, but they don’t call them boxes, they call them Files. Look let me show you.’ Without further ado David opened his word processor, created a page headed My Grandma. ‘Look, I need to be able to find it next time I use the computer, I’m going to create a File called Grandma and Me. ‘There you are,’ he beamed at his grandmother, ‘you see the icon even looks like a box. He saved his page.’
Edna looked at the computer screen. There before her eyes was a little yellow box and when she clicked on it the screen changed to show her the page stored inside. ‘I see,’ she said. Can we save another page?’
‘Of course we can. What shall we call it? How about My Grandson? You type it you’re better with the keyboard than me. I bet you’ve been a secretary in your time.’
Edna had used a typewriter at work in the eighties, but not as a high flying secretary. She had been a copy typist. They don’t have them now days she thought as she created a new page and saved it. 
‘That’s it Grandma. Now open the File.’
With a click the File called Grandma and Me opened to show her the two saved pages, My Grandma and My Grandson. ‘Well I never!’ she said, ‘I’ve been doing this for years, keeping things in boxes.’
 ‘You see it’s easy. What’s the last box you had out of the front room?’
‘Nineteen sixty-five.’
‘We can create a file called 1965 in the computer. Now if we want to save pages into it we can do.’ David headed a page called Moon Landing and again saved it.’
‘But where’s it gone to?’ asked Edna.
‘It’s not really a piece of paper Grandma. It’s stored in memory until we want to print it. It’s a virtual page. Something we can work with and when we want to see it in our hands we print it.’
‘Oh,’ the long pause that followed indicated that Edna needed some time to think about it. ‘Are you ready for another game of Ping Pong?’ She rapidly began eating her cold porridge. ‘Drink your tea David, before its goes cold.’ It didn’t seem to matter what you did with young people you could never catch up. ‘You didn’t tell me about your school project.’
‘Grandma, mum says I’ve got to ask your permission. You’ll never guess what my History project is.’
‘Not if you don’t give me a clue.’
David could hardly contain his enthusiasm. ‘Grandma,’ he looked to make sure he had her attention, ‘Grandma…’
‘Come on then, out with it I’m dying of suspense.’
‘Grandma, it’s you: you’re my history project.’ David laughed at the expression on his grandmother’s face.
‘I hope your not saying I’m history young man,’ she said indignantly.
‘Not you Grandma, but all the things that have happened in your life. We might have to narrow it down a bit. It’s been a long time.’
Edna picked up the cushion and threw it at him. He dodged and threw it back. 
‘Mind the porridge,’ she cried. ‘Why me, what have I done to deserve this?’
‘You’re interesting Grandma, you and all that’s happened.’
He seemed so keen, Edna thought for a few seconds, and said, ‘I think you could be right. This is a very nice suggestion David. I will be proud to be your history project. I just hope my memory is good enough.’
‘You don’t have to recall everything, we’ve got the Internet.’
‘The Internet,’ said Edna, ‘Now you are talking my language.’ She didn’t know much about it but she knew that you needed something called double-u, double-u, double-u, dot, before you could surf. It sounded very exciting, dangerous maybe. Edna resolved to be careful.

* * * *

Two weeks later at Pat’s house, Edna had been invited for Sunday lunch. Occasionally, they had a family dinner for the three of them. She often felt sad that David could not experience the Sunday dinner times held at her mother’s home.
‘Mother had nine of us to cook for. There was mum and dad, Jim and me, my sister Kate and her husband, Tom. That made six of us and then we had the children. That’s your mum and Kate’s two sons,’ she paused to think, ‘John and Andrew.’
David asked, ‘what did you enjoy the most Grandma? Did you have wine?
‘No, sometimes dad had a bottle of beer. Most of all I remember the room being full of people. Everyone seemed happy. In the very early days we started the meal with Yorkshire pudding, served with gravy and sauce made from fresh mint out of the garden. Funny but as I’m talking about it I can almost smell the mixture of mint sauce and beef gravy and mum’s puddings used to be just perfect. I can hear the edges crunch as you cut into them but the centre melted in your mouth.’
‘Didn’t you have anything else on the plate?’
‘No, the meat and two veg came next. Great mounds of hot food served onto your plate, and you had to eat it all up or you didn’t have any desert.’
Pat came into the room from the kitchen carrying plates full of spaghetti bolognaise. ‘I didn’t do any garlic bread; I know it starts your indigestion mum.’
The meal continued with talk of the Post Office closing. David expertly curled his spaghetti around the fork. He loved Italian food but given the choice he would always choose Chinese. Mum didn’t cook Chinese dishes so they rarely ate it at home. Some times they would bring a take-away back from the supermarket. Its not often we have a joint of meat either he thought.
‘Grandma, can we come to your house for Sunday dinner and have beef and Yorkshire pudding; just like you used to have it, with mint sauce and all.’
‘David!’ his mum looked as though she would have a fit. ‘Don’t be so cheeky. You can’t invite yourself. Take no notice of him.’
Edna thought, it is a long time since I entertained, but then again my ovens low down, its difficult to bend and see in to the back of it nowadays. Looking at Pat she made a suggestion. ‘What about if I come and cook the dinner here one day. Would that be acceptable?’
‘Mum, you don’t need to.’ Pat thought of her own childhood and the lovely dinners they used to have. ‘But if you would let David help,’ she stared at her son with that you’d-better-do-this look, ‘we would love you to cook Sunday dinner.’
‘I can put it in my history project,’ announced David.
‘It’s hardly history David,’ said Pat.
‘It is the way Grandma describes it,’ he said. 
They all laughed although David hadn’t really intended it to be a joke.
‘How are we progressing with the project David?’ asked Grandma. She had come to Pat’s house to access the Internet. Over the last few days she had been introduced to the information highway. She loved that phrase. She didn’t fully understand what it meant but her library friends had been very impressed when she used it at the computing class. Mrs Williams her computer partner had been even more impressed when she showed her how to save data in the boxes they called Files. Thanks to David’s help she had become the star of the class.
‘I’ve got too much information Grandma; I’m going to have to get rid of a lot of the pages that we saved. I’m going to delete most of it.’
This is an interesting idea, Edna thought. We have saved lots of things into boxes. Things that we have never actually printed or held and now we don’t want them we are going to delete them. ‘What happens when you delete things David? You know what I mean; the things that didn’t exist in the first place!’
‘Well they did exist; we saved them into a File.’ David smiled, his Grandma understood a lot, but sometimes the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle didn’t fall into place. ‘We could just remove them from our computer altogether, that’s called deleting or if we thought they could be handy one day we could put them into history, that’s called archiving. Like you have archives at museums, you don’t want to lose the information but you don’t want to look at it much either.’
‘Yes, I see what you mean. It sounds like my back bedroom full of things that could come in handy one day. I’ve still got my very first record player under the bed.’
‘That’s it Grandma, the archive is just like your back bedroom. Don’t you sometimes call it a box room? One day you will decide to throw that old record player away. Take it to the tip or sell it. When you do it will be gone forever. You will have deleted it.’
‘Mmm, I shall have to think about this a bit more. Some things stay in my mind even when I’ve thrown them away.’
‘That’s what I’ve learnt from you. When I look up Mint Sauce on the Internet it tells me how to make it and what from, when I say Mint Sauce to you Grandma, you tell me where it used to grow in the garden, what the leaves felt like, how the next door neighbour would keep borrowing some, and so on. You’re marvellous Grandma, your memories better than a computer. You don’t need the record player under the bed you have all the memories that go with it in your head. The music, the parties, the dancing…’
‘The youth club,’ Edna carried on, ‘that first kiss.’ She fell silent thinking about the good times.
David looked at Grandma and his mum, ‘I’m going to call my history project, Grandma’s Memoirs.’
Afterwards, on the way home on the bus, Edna began to consider how she could get rid of lots of the things from her back bedroom. Yes computer skills had certainly made her think in a different way. He’s a good lad David. She would love to cook Sunday dinner for him and his mum.

* * * *

The next time Pat called to see Edna she found her at the kitchen door, sat at the side of a large cardboard box. 
‘What have you got there mum?’
‘It’s the last of the junk I used to keep in the back bedroom. I’ve emptied it. Every thing has gone. Either to the charity shop or the rubbish tip. I didn’t need it anymore. I just can’t decide on these last pieces.’
 Surprised to learn about the changes Pat climbed the stairs to look into the room. It was completely bare, even the furniture had gone. She had suggested clearing the room before but mum had always insisted that the things in there couldn’t be thrown away. Returning to the kitchen she looked into the last box full of memorabilia.
‘David didn’t want you to throw everything away mum.’
‘I know but when I thought about it, he was right, I didn’t need lots of old furniture or the pots and worn out clothes that I would never wear again.’
‘What will you do with the room now?’
‘I hope David will decorate it for me. It’s going to be a hobby room. I sold the antique jewellery and I want to buy a new sewing machine or maybe a computer.’
‘Mum, don’t rush out and choose one. We can help. That computer class has a lot to answer for!’ she said showing her anxiety.
‘It’s been great. I’m a free woman again. I want to move on, not stay in the past. Where’s David got to? He is coming here straight from school, isn’t he?’
They chatted about how the teacher at the computer class would help to select a computer; the demise of the Post Office that would close down in five weeks time; the Sunday dinner that Edna would cook next weekend. Another thirty minutes passed and Pat decided she couldn’t wait for David any longer. He was overdue. She had just finished buttoning her coat when he walked in. 
‘Where have you been?’ Edna and Pat asked the question in unison.
‘Calm down, calm down,’ David replied. He laughed, ‘I’ve had to see the Deputy Head about my project. It’s won some sort of prize.’
‘What do you mean, some sort of prize? What is it?’
‘History Project of the Year, it’s presented at the annual prize giving ceremony.’ He half smiled as though receiving it would be a chore. ‘Guess what Grandma,’ before she had chance to reply he enthusiastically announced, ‘they want you to be there!’
Taken aback Edna almost shouted, ‘Why me?’
‘It’s because they want to meet the best Grandma in the world. That’s why. Will you come? Please say you will.’ He suddenly noticed the big box. ‘You have been busy what’s in the box?’
Pat quickly explained the box contained the last remnants from the back bedroom.
‘Well done Grandma, can we look through this one and maybe save some of the things you can’t bare to part with. We could archive them in the attic.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Edna smiled at the solution to her problem.
‘It must have taken a lot of your time emptying the bedroom. You look worn out,’ said Pat.
‘Time you had a holiday,’ suggested David.
‘No it’s not that, I’ve not been sleeping too well. I had a bit of an argument at the Post Office a few weeks ago and I can’t get it out of my mind.’ Edna told the story of Angela Taylor pushing in and the confrontation outside where she had been unusually nasty. Pat said she would make a cup of tea and suggested Edna should try to have a nap whilst they all watched the early evening TV.
With his mum making the tea David asked, ‘can’t you just forget it Grandma?’
‘I would if I could but it made me so mad with Angela and so disappointed with myself.’ She smiled knowing David would appreciate what she was about to say. ‘I even created a box in my mind to dump her in. I called it, People I Want to Forget. But do you know David that box seems to be full. I just can’t close the lid. The memories keep me awake.’
‘Why not just delete them Grandma? Throw them out. Take them to the rubbish tip,’ he said figuratively.
‘It doesn’t work. I’ve tried that.’
‘You could give the box another title,’ David suggested pensively.
‘Such as?’
‘What about People I Want to For…’ 
‘What are you two nattering on about?’ Pat said as she came back carrying a pot of tea. Before they had chance to answer she carried on speaking, ‘I’ve been thinking about your tussle with Angela Taylor and I’m really surprised that you didn’t think of the answer. I know it’s just like you to try to think the best of someone, why don’t you ….’
David interrupted,’ I did have a suggestion but you came in with the tea.
Pat gave her son a don’t-you-dare-interrupt-me stare. ‘I was about to say why don’t you forgive her.’
‘Mum,’ cried David, ‘that’s what I was about to say. Grandma call your box People I Want to Forgive.’  
Edna laughed and agreed that it was a good idea. She sipped her tea as she quietly thought things through. Next time she met Angela, she would smile and suggest they have a cup of coffee and if she declined, she would forgive her knowing she had tried her best. Yes it solved her problem. David hadn’t been quite right but he had given her the idea. Having a box called Forgive and Forget made life a lot easier. She could now close the lid on the box and take down another called Treasured Memories. It had become her favourite, full of all the good things she had to be grateful for in life. She gradually drifted off to sleep.


* * * *