November 5

Writing this without becoming maudlin, yet maintaining some pathos, is quite tricky. As is trying, without becoming melodramatic, to visualise or relive the movements during the last days of someone you never knew . But a parallel occurred to me a day or so ago. Our first grandchild was born three weeks ago, and fresh as it is,I was brought up with a start when I thought of my auntie still in the post partum recovery suddenly being dealt the blow that the child's father and her husband was dead.
Changing track, somewhat, but also hearkening to the first couple of sentences of this post. I have been doing a bit of extra(part-time) work to supplement the funds for the trip. Before I started this, a few weeks ago, I made a conscious decision not to complain about being tired or overloaded, or whatever, because I knew that the men in the field of battle for England had it far worse, with no choice but to be there. It reminded me that we often underestimate our abilities and capabilities, and can do far more than we make think we can. I take a bit of pride in being able to do a bit more in order to visit the resting places of so many who didn't have the chance to come back and work overtime.