Pop

thats what his friends and family called him. His name was Malcolm and he was my father in law. A small man with a large belly that two of my kids used to sit on (the youngest never knew him, sadly), and who was always being mistaken for Charlie Drake. He had little sayings;

If at first you dont succeed, give up.

Dont put off til tomorrow whatever can be done the day after.

If you spill salt, scoop it up and put it back in the bottle.

Once when he was younger, he and his brothers, had gone shopping in a strange town and were going around in circles. The driving brother didnt think so, so Pop starting throwing sausages out of the car so that when they saw the sausage for a second time it would be confirmed. When they got home they had no sausages left.

Years later, when he had left the army, his younger brother got him drunk and had to carry  him upstairs to the flate my inlaws lived in. They reached the end of the outside  balcony to his door only to realise that he actually lived in the next block!

He liked his horse racing. He liked his cigs. He liked his drink. He was a happy drunk, the complete opposite of his younger brother. And he lacked motivation to do much else in his life but………………he was HAPPY.

When he had his fatal heart attack, he told my mum in law that he was sorry. He was 53. But he loved almost every minute of his life. And thats the important part.

His funeral was tremendous……..so many flowers on his grave……..a magnificent piper in full dress kilt etc. and the church was overflowing with people who had loved him, because he was HAPPY and harmless.

But mostly because he was HAPPY.

Love all, hurt none and walk in soft shoes

Isi Tart

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