The next few days will prove eventful, although I cannot thank myself for any of this action.
Tomorrow afternoon is the funeral of my half-sister’s mother. She was a Polish lady who married my late father soon after the Second World War.
I don’t know the story, so I cannot share it with you. I’ll tell you what I know.
After War was declared, Britain internally evacuated school children away from city centres as there was uncertainty how soon Germans would start bombing British towns.
My father was at school when the Second World War broke out and was evacuated to a place called Liss. He loved to preach at the United Reformed Church in Liss as he had fond childhood memories of the village. I remember driving him there on several Sunday mornings. At that time I drove a white Proton Persona.
On D-Day plus three, my father’s best friend was killed in action. My father ended up in Germany at the end of the War and, so I was told, spoke German in the accent of one of the nearby villages so well that some German residents thought that he was a native of this nearby village. He also remained a pen friend of one of the German POWs for life.
Soon after returning to England, he married a Polish woman that he had met. Tomorrow, this lady will be laid to rest. She was a pleasant woman with whom to speak, which Gloria will testify to.
On Friday night I am on driving-Yasmin-and-her-friends-to-town-on-their-night-out duty. I haven’t done that for a few months.
And on Sunday, my nephew Otis is running in the London Marathon for charity.
He hasn’t yet hit his fundraising target, unfortunately, but he is still raring to run and raise what money he can for a charity that has grabbed a place in his heart.
He has run a marathon before so knows what to expect.
At the moment, Otis is sleeping on a camp bed in my mother’s bungalow. It wasn’t the best idea for him to stay on where he had been lodging. My Mum wanted to put him up to help him save for a deposit on a better place hence his address for a couple of weeks has been the same as his grandmother’s.
She worries about him a lot although I am certain that he’s more capable than she thinks. She probably worries about him because he never raises his voice or show any upset or anger with anyone, no matter what happens. I think that she in concerned that he’s too easily bullied.
He will be moving to his new place in the next few days.
So, an active weekend without me doing too much effort myself.
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