Memorials, Scooters and Old Friends

Hi Everyone

Just about an hour away from our home is the National Memorial Arboretum. It is a wonderful site of national remembrance. It’s objective is to honour the fallen, recognise service and sacrifice, and foster pride in our armed forces, and importantly, the associated civilian community. It was opened in 2001 and now welcomes about 300,000 visitors each year and about 25,000 students and young people to take part in educational learning visits. Visitors can explore over 400 memorials while walking through 150 acres of woodland. We have been there a number of times with many parts of the site still to explore. Now some people have decided that it needs a name change and no, it isn’t Trump, at least as far as I know. to the Royal British Legion National Remembrance Gardens. Now, while I have no particular view on the matter, it has inevitably sparked a debate with some strong views expressed, particularly by objectors, with some veterans saying that they will not visit the site again if the name is changed. It may be that the new proposed name would be more appropriate, but it does give some credence to the phrase “If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it”.

Our friend's son has an electric scooter. Many years ago, as a young man, he had a serious motorcycle accident, leaving him with a shattered leg that required metal rods to make sure that the bones knitted. Due to the pain he now suffers, he finds that he is unable to walk long distances, which is why he now has an electric scooter. This week he had a hospital appointment, so he travelled on his scooter and locked it in two places. On his return, he found that his scooter had been stolen. Obviously, anything on the hospital site will almost certainly belong to a patient, visitor or employee of the hospital. I don’t expect for one minute that any of these thieves think about the consequences of their actions or the impact on the lives of those from whom they steal. 

This week, the Main Contractor decided to have a search, sort and throw out week, starting with three boxes on a shelf in the garage. Three hours later, we had not even got beyond the first box. It was a treasure trove of letters going back almost fifty years from friends and family in the days when letters were a joy to receive and before the Email ond zoom took over our lives. One letter was a letter of thanks from an eighteen year old Italian boy who stayed with us for a week back in 1978. He was an immediate hit with our two then young children who would run into his bedroom and bounce on his bed each morning. We had just one photograph of him. We remembered his first name and the letter revealed his surname and his address, so I then started an internet search. After a half hour search, we found a photograph of a man with the same name, with links to the area in Italy where he came from. For whatever reason, we are unable to contact him directly but have been able to contact a friend of his. Watch this space.

Just a Thought:

Walkers love walking; scooter riders love bypassing traffic laws.

Receiving a letter today usually means another bill, a jury summon or your bank reminding you that you are overdrawn.

What do you call an Italian coffee with an old friend? A catchupino.

Brian