This creature greeted me in the kitchen this morning

And outside one of the sunflowers is fully opens and splendid

But they need stoning and lightly stewing with redcurrants and sugar. They are sour cherries after all (which is why the birds leave them alone)

Sadly I think it succumbed to the heat

I’m privileged to be writing a book using material that I asked both parents to write.

Dad was a descriptive and unsentimental writer with near perfect recall of time, dates and places with an amazing attention to detail. He poured his recollections and thoughts into 250 pages of emails that he exchanged with his oldest grandson over a four year correspondence. What a treasure trove he left behind.

Descriptions of the pre war East End – its places, schools, people and community

The descriptions of the slums in which he lived and in which most of those he knew dwelt is detailed and vivid. I can almost smell and taste the food his mother cooked and the chips he bought from Johnnie Isaac’s fish and chip shop in the Mile End Road where he jostled to get served.

That dad, a boy who left school at aged 14 with no qualifications, could become a chartered accountant, is simply remarkable. His journey was not unique. Many of his friends from the East End worked hard to better themselves and overcome their impoverished beginnings – and they succeeded beyond any of their wildest dreams.

Dad’s dedication to his family was exemplary. An only child of ill-suited parents he cared for them and supported them all his life.

His devotion to the love of his life, Mum, spurred him on to work by day and study by night so that by the time he was a father he could provide us with the warm and comfortable and happy home that he did not himself enjoy when he was a child.

There is so much more to say and write and I hope to honour his memory and mum’s when the book is written.

He was a dutiful son, a loving husband, a devoted father and even more amazing grandfather. He could relax with and enjoy his grandchildren without the responsibility he felt as a parent. They adored him and miss him still.

Dad was blessed to hold two great grandchildren one of whom is old enough to remember him and the many hours they spent playing together.

and three weeks later he collapsed and passed away at the age of 86.

Dad was not perfect – who is? But he was the best son, husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather that he could be and I wish I could have told him so before he left us.

Underneath a bench dedicated to a little girl who died aged 6

Further on there was a small photograph and short description of a young American pilot who died in 1945 when his plane crashed in the field. He was only 26, far from home and is buried in the American cemetery in nearby Madingley