Harry

I have been sorting through old photos, because my daughter is starting to look into the one side of her family which she hardly knew. This explains yesterday's house picture.

In this one, my father (3rd from right) is sitting next to his Norwegian girlfriend (even righter) and his brother (rightest) in a restaurant or cafe which I think may be in Norway, although they are both dressed in black tie, so it could be London where they both attended grand Freemasonry Balls in Great Queen Street. I don't know who the others are.

The chap on the left looks somewhat intimidated by my uncle, as well he should be. Uncle Harry was even bigger than my father - about 6' 6" and around 20 stone. They were both so masculine and handsome in a 1930's film star way. I could never hope to live up to it, let alone the poor bloke in the photo  - the only other male in the room.

You can see from the photo that my father is not very comfortable in social situations - especially when there is a camera being pointed at him - whereas Harry is loving it all.

After the war Harry and my aunt moved from London to Devon to run a pub in Kingsbridge. Before the war he and his brother fell out with each other (something to do with my mother, I think) and they did not speak until I was around 13 years old, after my sister brokered a reunion to make peace. One day, I and my parents motored down to Kingsbridge and I was present at the first and last meeting between the two brothers since hostilities ceased.

We got out of the car and into the pub. Harry proffered a hand to my father and said, "How are you, Tom?" (Yes, I stole his name but not his looks). Tom responded stiffly and the ice was finally broken.

I was feeling very car-sick from the journey in an old Ford Pilot with leather seats, leaky exhaust and mother's cigarette smoke, but Harry knew just what would set me right. "Give the boy a brandy and lovage", he boomed. In one minute I was as right as rain. This must have been the beginning of my long affair with pubs and their contents.

I never saw Harry again, but I heard that he became so large that he could not climb the little staircase to the bedroom and spent the rest of his life sleeping in an armchair downstairs.

That is how my brother died.