The maelstrom of history and a series of revolutions

My late grandfather was heavily involved in the union movement in the North of England. Fighting for the miners, he organised pickets and strike action. In the end, he underwent electro-shock treatment for what I can only imagine would have been anxiety and stress. Back then, they might have called it a nervous breakdown. I'm not too sure. After this, my mother says he just wasn't the same man. I only ever remember him as a frail pipe-smoking old man who was more content to sit in an armchair all day and bet on the horses rather than talk to his grandchildren. Stories like that not only remind me of my past, but also the small stories that every person can tell of family. Small leaves in the great river of time we are, floating, tumbling, and moving haphazardly downstream. Age after age and century after century, we tumble, telling our stories and huddling together against the cold, so as to convince ourselves we're important and loved. Our ages have names. Our history is neatly…