Whilst we were on Holiday, my dear Uncle Colin passed away. Just shy of his 90th birthday, he had been very poorly for the previous few weeks, and was looked after very well at home. So my home coming was subdued, and I have been thinking about him since then. Today I went into the garden, thinking of him and Aunty Doreen, and saw that the Lilly of the Valley was ready for picking. I came back from their home a few years ago with a variety of plants, and this one has grown very well. So this is the time to pay a small tribute to him. Thank you for all you love.
Uncle Colin lived in Lincolnshire all his life, which was full and interesting, and very happy. Well as far as I know, I shall correct this if not, maybe he went overseas for his military service. When I was young and living in Mauritius, I started up a pen friendship with his daughter: my cousin Christine. I guess now we would be friends on Facebook or such like, but in those days, letters were the standard and that took longer. I remember a little brooch I received one year, made of hazelnuts into a little red squirrel as a Christmas Present.
When visiting their home on family visits to the UK, and later when I was at school here, and also in more recent years, I was always made most welcome. Uncle Colin had the characteristic traits of the Greenfield boys/men: tall, handsome, hard working, loyal, good gardeners, and also with a great sense of fun. He loved the country, wildlife and country walks. He always was a good listener and last time I visited and stayed I was so impressed with the way he was coping. He had patiently taught birds to come and feed from his hand, taking out raisins each morning after breakfast. He even made us all salmon sandwiches, just the way they like them there: brown bread, tinned salmon, vinegar etc..delicious.
I also remember now the time we bumped into each other in Lincoln in 2009. No more chances of this now, but I shall always remember him when I see or smell Lilly of the Valley.
Sure your Uncle Colin would be both a little abashed and full of pride at how you remember him here. Think I'd like to be remembered by the flowers grown in the garden.
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My condolences to you, Noelle. He sounds a delightful gentleman.
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