Nye's Poppa died last week. His funeral is today. The girls are poorly and irascible so they and I stayed at home while Nye flew up to Edinburgh to say goodbye one last time.
I didn't meet Leonard until he was 89, already older than most people ever get. He would have been 98 this year. He had a lot of stories to tell, about his childhood in Liverpool, his sporting prowess, his days during the second world war ('the best days of my life') to his years with Lillian in Kenya, Libya, Greece, England. All of his stories ended with 'I've had a remarkable life, I've had a good life', and surely that's the only ending any of us can hope for?