I’m very sorry for those looking for the latest exclusive.
I apologise for disappointing you.
My Grandmother is dying.
I can’t express to you what this means to me, memories flood back in waves.
She was an upstanding robust woman, a little too public school for my family. She taught me as a young boy to always walk to the right of a lady, so that I might keep my sword hand free to defend her. I’ve since found no practical use for this but it did teach me to respect women.
During the second world war she was a nurse. Apart from the promiscuity of the Bowes-Lyons, one story stuck in my mind. After D-Day she worked in Holland. A young girl with terrible headlice was brought in to the makeshift hospital. The nurses cut off all of the young girls hair. The parents went absolutely ballistic, because you see that having your hair cut off at that time was a sign that you were a Nazi collaborator.
She taught me to build camps and make toffee.
She once found two young owls, and she bred mice to feed them, swinging the dead mice on a piece of string so that they might learn how to hunt for themselves. My Nan was no softie.
If I were to catalogue my regrets, there would be no end to this post.
I put my dislike of my brother between myself and my Nan. Now she is dying and I’m left with the consequences of that decision.