The Little Things That Spark Big Ideas Old grandad George, bless his cotton socks, always had a story for everything, didn't he? He'd tell us tales of his youth, of rationing and resilience, and how the simplest things held the most meaning. I remember one summer's afternoon, the sun streaming through the kitchen window, dappling the worn linoleum. He was showing my cousin a tarnished, yet undeniably cherished, silver dog tag. It wasn't military issue; it was something his dad, my great-grandad, had worn, etched with just their initials. It was a proper heirloom, a little bit of history passed...
