rip grandad

My Grandad passed away yesterday. He was a war veteran.

Dad got home just in time, 24 hours. Thank God for that.

Grandad was 92; he lived a long interesting life. He owned his own architecture firm in Cape Town and worked right up until two weeks ago. Literally.

Work kept him alive all these years, he loved it. He went into the office day-in, day-out until he lost the ability to read. Frustration was his ultimate demise.

The man also fought in the war, and had a broken bullet in his leg to prove it.

When I turned 21, he told me that on his 21st birthday he was sat under a truck in the middle of the desert avoiding bullets.

Grandad was a character - he's my Dad's dad after all.

So RIP Grandad. I am sorry I wasn't there to say goodbye, and even more sorry I haven't been able to see you for the last few years.

My aunt, who was also unable to see him, and I will conduct our own little home-made memorial for him here in London.

May you be happier and at peace, wherever you are in the Universe now. You'll be with Granny Bonne, so that in itself should make you pretty happy.

I have one grandparent left. I've been faced with the concept of mortality a lot lately. And it's made me start to think very seriously about whether I should start thinking about having a family. Before my immediate one all dies off.

What a shitty thought.

Bye Grandad.