thinking about my brilliant, grumpy old Dad today.
He was a Desert Rat, made Himler sweep the guard's room and a Major in the Black Watch. He and his troops relieved Fecamp and were thanked by the Monks who brewed the vile green stuff in the beautiful monastery who proceeded to get him and his division totally plastered on Benedictine. He said it was the worst hang over he ever had. Then he named me after D Day, I suppose it could have been Deirdre...
He survived all of this just to become an error in the system, the way old people are treated currently. The urine filled ward in Elm Grove Hospital, Brighton has since been closed. I'm afraid even the nurses there should have been ashamed of themselves. Nobody cared.
The family finally got him moved back to the General hospital where weeks later he died, but at least with a tiny bit of dignity. I loved him loads.
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