He never spoke about it...

I picked some Phlox and Elder from the garden yesterday -

sometimes I prefer garden picked flowers to shop bought ones -

they feel more "homely". Although I have to admit, I do find it difficult to walk past the small florist across the road from me, without popping in - even if just for a look at the latest blooms :-)

 

 

I think they look really nice on this old table, with a photograph of my grandad and his brother. 16 and 18 years of age, in 1914 and they were preparing to go to war. His uniform is drowning him! He died when I was young, so I never got to speak to him about it. Probably best, as apparently he never breathed one word to anyone about his time away. 

I would have liked to have known him better, I can vaguely remember him. Tall, white hair and wellingtons, a very quiet man, with a really kind smile - always in the garden with his dog, Meg, or tending his pigeons.

He loved his pigeons, and an American came over to buy his most famous bird in the 1950's- who was called "Annie" - she was a well known champion in her day. But grandad just couldnt bear to part with her.