The armed security guard's hand dropped down to his revolver and his left hand lifted up for me to stop, which of course I did, in my wheelchair.
My wife and I were passing through customs in Singapore where everyone was very friendly and pro-British. I asked someone why the armed security guard had appeared so very aggressive. I was told that they are very aggressive against the import of any drugs - drug smuggling can even lead to execution in some cases.
I had heard a little 'ting' sound as I passed through customs, but that was caused by a tin of tobacco and a steel stemmed pipe that were in my pocket (I gave that obnoxious habit up many years ago). Nothing prohibited on me!
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Memories
I was reflecting the other day on the happiest and also the saddest days of my life.
The happiest was of course June 4th 1955, when I married - who I thought then, and still think of as now - the loveliest and most sensible girl in the world.
The saddest without doubt was in 1941, when I was 11.
I had a little brother called Idwal. He was 3 years old. I can see him now, sitting on the fifth stair up, reading my comic 'The Hotspur' upside down with a mischievous grin on his face! He used to say you can't have it, coz I haven't finished reading it yet! Then a few seconds later he would give it to me!
A few months later my Mother was holding Idwal on her knee when she noticed his breathing was husky. She said to my Father we'd better take him to hospital, which they did. We left him there for treatment.
The following day Mr Williams from the power station came to our house (because we didn't have a phone) to say the hospital had rung to say that they should go there as soon as possible. They went.
They came back a couple of hours later. My Father was very quiet and my Mother was crying. I asked what was wrong and she said that Idwal had died of pneumonia.
I prayed every night for weeks that there had been a silly mistake, to no avail!
Scores of years later we had five lovely children and lots of equally superb grandchildren. Not a day goes by that I fail to realise that we cannot take anything for granted.
The happiest was of course June 4th 1955, when I married - who I thought then, and still think of as now - the loveliest and most sensible girl in the world.
The saddest without doubt was in 1941, when I was 11.
I had a little brother called Idwal. He was 3 years old. I can see him now, sitting on the fifth stair up, reading my comic 'The Hotspur' upside down with a mischievous grin on his face! He used to say you can't have it, coz I haven't finished reading it yet! Then a few seconds later he would give it to me!
A few months later my Mother was holding Idwal on her knee when she noticed his breathing was husky. She said to my Father we'd better take him to hospital, which they did. We left him there for treatment.
The following day Mr Williams from the power station came to our house (because we didn't have a phone) to say the hospital had rung to say that they should go there as soon as possible. They went.
They came back a couple of hours later. My Father was very quiet and my Mother was crying. I asked what was wrong and she said that Idwal had died of pneumonia.
I prayed every night for weeks that there had been a silly mistake, to no avail!
Scores of years later we had five lovely children and lots of equally superb grandchildren. Not a day goes by that I fail to realise that we cannot take anything for granted.
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