As I type I am watching the funeral of Harry Patch who went on recently at 111.
It is at Wells Cathedral where I have been many times (it is a handful of miles from BS5) .
In the commentary as he was on the way in, one of the TV pundits said something really worthwhile and resonating. He said that so many people were watching and listening today because Harry Patch reminded them of their own grandfathers. Precisely.
Mine was born in the same year and went-on in the eighties and well into his own eighties, and that is what I have been thinking about today as wel las the man pictured here (Harry Patch, of course) .
On my Grandpa's 18th he was on The Somme on its opening morning. On mine, I am sure I was having a vastly easier time.
Anyhow, Harry Patch is having a warm and affectionate send off now and it is a good and fine thing.
111 is a fair number. If I last that long it will be 2083 and I might have finished my bathroom .
1 comment:
That's such a lovely warm post, good to read, thanks :)
(doubtful on the bathroom front I'd have thought though!)
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