Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Wrong picture, right attic
I have already told you what my mother's last words were (and what great ones) but I don't know what my father's were. I will have to ask my surviving sister who was with him at the end, before she too kicks the bucket.
I went to stay with him a couple of weeks before he died, and when he knew he did not have long to live.
He started to look a little agitated one evening, and I asked him what the matter was. Eventually, he came out with what was on his mind.
"The worst thing about all this is that I will miss you kids."
I almost laughed, but as I get older, I know what he means.
He was such a handsome man, eh? Why am I not so good-looking, I wonder? Something to do with the wrong picture in the attic, I am guessing.