My most treasured possession
What's your most treasured possession? What would you rescue from a fire (be it for sentimental or purely financial reasons)?
My Great-Uncle left me his visitors book which along with boring people like the Queen and Harold Wilson has Spike Milligan's signature in it. It's all loopy.
Either that or my Grandfather's swords.
( , Thu 8 May 2008, 12:38)
What's your most treasured possession? What would you rescue from a fire (be it for sentimental or purely financial reasons)?
My Great-Uncle left me his visitors book which along with boring people like the Queen and Harold Wilson has Spike Milligan's signature in it. It's all loopy.
Either that or my Grandfather's swords.
( , Thu 8 May 2008, 12:38)
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Ooh, nerve twanged
I have kept, and displayed, a photo from my Sister's wedding, as it is one of the last featuring my paternal Grandfather. On the morning, we had (almost) literally kidnapped him from hospital with the willing help of the ward nurses, hoicked him into his suit, and driven like nutters so he could see his first grand-daughter walk down the aisle.
By the end of the service he was tiring rapidly, and can be seen having a breather in the church porch just behind where we were doing a sword arch. By the time the meal was finished, he was on his chinstrap, and had to be smuggled back to hospital.
Sadly, I was living at the other end of the country at that point, and so I didn't really see him until just after my wedding, which he was too frail to attend. We did make the trip to present him with a bottle of Malt after the honeymoon, however, and the sight of the Highland Park brought back the sparkle to his eye and the old rogueish smile to his face.
Never really saw him again, as he deteriorated quite rapidly after that. Wish I had spent more time with the old bugger. As the God-Botherer at his funeral said, a Truly Gentle Man*.
Beautifully written, Chickenlady BTW.
*Didn't mention the sniper bit.
( , Fri 9 May 2008, 11:44, Reply)
I have kept, and displayed, a photo from my Sister's wedding, as it is one of the last featuring my paternal Grandfather. On the morning, we had (almost) literally kidnapped him from hospital with the willing help of the ward nurses, hoicked him into his suit, and driven like nutters so he could see his first grand-daughter walk down the aisle.
By the end of the service he was tiring rapidly, and can be seen having a breather in the church porch just behind where we were doing a sword arch. By the time the meal was finished, he was on his chinstrap, and had to be smuggled back to hospital.
Sadly, I was living at the other end of the country at that point, and so I didn't really see him until just after my wedding, which he was too frail to attend. We did make the trip to present him with a bottle of Malt after the honeymoon, however, and the sight of the Highland Park brought back the sparkle to his eye and the old rogueish smile to his face.
Never really saw him again, as he deteriorated quite rapidly after that. Wish I had spent more time with the old bugger. As the God-Botherer at his funeral said, a Truly Gentle Man*.
Beautifully written, Chickenlady BTW.
*Didn't mention the sniper bit.
( , Fri 9 May 2008, 11:44, Reply)
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