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Sunday, 21 June 2015
June 21st - a doubly poignant anniversary
Today is not only the anniversary (10th) of my mother's funeral, but also the 36th anniversary of my father's death.
Seeing my sister last month for my annual visit (she, now 77, having been widowed just last February), she'd dug out a photo which I'd completely forgotten, taken when we were on holiday, when I'd have been about 10. This was on the Yorkshire Moors, actually only about 25 miles from our home, but in those days that distance was a big deal! Can you guess which of the the three young boys I am? (If you do a left-click on the photo it should come up much larger and clearer).
My mother is, you can just see, holding onto Candy at the bottom of the picture, the only dog we ever owned, and which I loved to bits - and the old lady on the right is my grandmother, my mum's mum.
I am actually the right one of the three. Next to me is my late elder brother who died 7 years ago at the age of 64 and who became an internationally-renowned memory man, once holding the world record for remembering the mathematical ratio pi to over 15,000 decimal places (long since been overtaken, though) as well as other memory tricks, such as with playing cards. My younger brother, David, is the perky-looking one on the left, and was the most intelligent member of the family, winning school prizes and things. (I have one other surviving brother, now 75.)
So there it is - rare from me, but a blast from my past, on a day when thoughts veer towards my departed parents. Poignant and sad memories, true, but also most agreeable ones.