So heard the news the other day that ‘Clive’ had passed away. Haven’t seen him since my dad’s funeral, where he recounted the story of the exploding tomatoes in the greenhouse. Apparently they built this greenhouse using double glazing and filled it with tomato plants. It was one of the very hot summers during the 1970’s. They went to work, came back and saw everyone of the tomatoes had exploded in the heat, making it look like some kind of massacre had occurred.

He was a neighbour back when I was probably about five or six. He had two kids which were a similar age (maybe a bit older) to my sister and I. He worked with dad for a number of years, fitting windows. They got an old ladder and put half each side of the garden wall so they could get over in the morning to whoever kept the van that night. He had a fish pond and a dog called ‘Jane’. Quite a few memories of Clive, he was a bit of a chirpy chap, and always brought out the best in Dad. I don’t have that many fond memories of my Dad to be honest.

So that’s another one of that generation shuffling off. My old school friend announced recently that his dad had also passed at the age of ninety odd, from dementia and old age. If we have a cold winter then I can see a few more popping off this year.

My sister will never be an ‘aunty’, but at some point she will certainly be a ‘granny’. She will hate that. But it does mean we then ‘all move up a level’, then it will be our turn next.