YouTube Videos/Chef Daniel/in memory of my grandfather [A3TZdmxyJTY]

Hello and welcome back to a new video. Today we'll be talking about my grandfather and how my life was turned upside down. Today we'll be analyzing how certain events may have shaped me into the person that I became. So join me on this journey as we travel back in time to where it all began with Philip W.

Lord, the man who was sent to Africa to fight for our freedom, the mastermind behind the construction of our house, the man that would raise 5 sons and leave a legacy spanning generations, the man that may have ruined my entire life.

My grandfather started off life as a baby boy in the year of 1919, shortly after World War I. When World War II began, he was around 20, in his early 20s, and he was conscripted into the British Army. He was sent to Africa, and because he knew Morse code, he was spared from being sent to the front

lines. I think he spent most of the war behind the front lines doing communication work or radio work, I'm not too sure, but I don't think he saw a lot of action. My dad told me that he used to spend a lot of his free time during his breaks when he wasn't doing war stuff, he used to

spend his free time planning the house. My dad once told me that my granddad's entire unit was wiped out because they all decided to go into town for a drink or something, but my granddad wasn't really a very sociable person and he decided to stay back and not join them. And instead he was planning the house like

usual, you know, drawing out blueprints and plotting dimensions. His entire unit got blown up because they drove over a landmine. If my granddad was really outgoing and joined the rest of his units, he would have also been blown up. My dad told me that my granddad always used to say that the house saved his life, and it

kind of did if you think about it. So it seems as though being introverted and antisocial can actually save your life. After the war, my granddad came back to England a changed man. Something happened in Africa to him that really stressed him out, and he suffered from PTSD. But he went ahead with his plans for the house,

and he started building it, and he completed it, and married a woman, and had 5 sons. One of those sons would become my dad. From what I've heard from my dad and my uncles, it wasn't a very happy family life. My granddad was a bit of a slave driver. He would make my uncles and my dad do

hard manual labor outside, doing gardening, digging holes, laying concrete. And his depression and PTSD caused him to become very violent and depressed, and things didn't really turn out very well. My granddad and my grandmother got divorced, and the family was split into 2. My grandmother took 2 of the kids, including my dad, and the remaining kids stayed

behind with my grandfather. I think the whole family situation was just very tragic and heartbreaking. I was a little surprised to find out that my granddad was such a violent and unpleasant person to live with, because when I was a kid, I kind of remember him as this very quiet, gentle man who didn't really say much. He

always had a faint smile on his face. When I was a young child, I didn't really like him because I thought he was a bit creepy. At family gatherings, he would just sit there in the corner, not really saying anything. I don't actually remember him ever speaking for some reason. He was a very quiet person. But the

main reason why I didn't like him very much when I was a kid was because I kind of blamed him for my family moving to his house. After he passed away, my dad sold our old house and bought my granddad's house, and then we had to move into that house. And the house wasn't a very nice house.

It was all falling apart. It was a very ugly-looking house because my granddad stopped working on it because of his depression. I was really upset about moving house because the old house was really nice. My dad put a lot of work into making the house a nice house, and my best friend Ricky lived next door, and all

of my school friends from school lived nearby. The first year at the new house was pretty bad. There was no electricity, no hot water. During winter, we had this tiny little electric heater and we would gather around it in the mornings because it was so cold. The inside of the house was in a terrible state. The wood

was all rotting, there were insects all over the place. It was kind of like living in one of those abandoned houses. It took me a long time to get adjusted and to get used to the new house. I really missed my best friend Ricky. I missed all of my school friends from school, and I kind of resented

my granddad. I resented him because I kept thinking, well, if he only passed away a few years later or 5 years later, Then my dad wouldn't have to move me into a horrible school that I hated, and I would have had a happy school life, maybe a happier child life with all of my friends at my other

school that I actually enjoyed going to. Obviously, I'm an adult now, and I don't blame him anymore. That was when I was a kid. I was a stupid kid, and yeah, I used to think it was his fault. Obviously, it's not his fault for passing away. Even though he wasn't the best husband or father, I kind of

respect the man because I think he accomplished a lot and achieved a lot of his dreams. He survived the war, he had big dreams to build a family, build a house, and he did those things. Okay, he didn't finish the house, but he had a good go at it, and it's a pretty impressive house. And then his

son, or my father, carried on working on the house, and today it's a beautiful house. That's nearly finished. You might look at the house and think, wow, that's a beautiful house, but things aren't that simple. It took a lot of time and hard work and money and effort to turn it into the beautiful house that it is

today. I feel kind of sad because there were still lots of things my dad wanted to do to finish the house, to make it better. He wanted to add a loft conversion, he wanted to finish the garden and the driveways, and there were a few more rooms that needed a bit more work. And in a way, I

do feel a little bit guilty for not following in his footsteps. I think my dad would have been very proud of me if I just got a normal job and then saved up money and continued his work, continued where he left off. There is a part of me, inside of me, that wants to carry on the legacy,

carry on my granddad's work, carry on my father's work. Make the house even better. But I keep wasting my time messing around with Japanese women and playing Rainbow Six and self-serialing. I'm no builder. I don't know how to do DIY. I don't know how to build things. I don't even know how to mix cement or make concrete

or lay bricks. But there is one thing I know how to do. I know how to play Minecraft, and I am going to dedicate some the rest of my life to making the best goddamn replication reconstruction of my grandfather and my father's house in Minecraft. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care if it takes

2 months, 6 months, a year, 5 years, 10 years. I will recreate every single brick, block by block. I might not be a very good son or YouTuber or person in general, but there is one thing I have. And that's time. I have a lot of time, a lot of free time and patience, and I'm going to

recreate everything. The house, the garden, the driveways, the roads. I'm going to recreate the entire village that the house is in, even the church, even the gravestone where my granddad is now buried. I also want to finish the projects that my dad didn't manage to finish, such as the loft conversion, the garden, the driveway, the vegetable patch

my dad was planning planning to do after he retired. I think this is going to be a lot of fun. It's going to take time and effort, but I think it's going to be worth it in the end. I can just picture it now. It's going to look amazing, and I hope this makes you proud of me,

Dad.