Brexit here we come! And not before time. The lads at the barbershop agree totally; restores your faith in the Great British Spirit. Back at home, neat and tidy with my No 2, I take a cuppa into the garden. It’s too quiet inside since Meg died; it’ll be a year in September. Where did those nine months go? Mind, the NHS did her proud. Her favourite nurse, Sonja, she was lovely, very kind, from Poland I think. I’ll treat myself to a KitKat. I know I shouldn’t, but hey-ho it’s not every day my side wins. Victory for the English working man.
The postie opens the gate, I expect it’s all rubbish.
‘Hello mate,’ he says. ‘You after one of those mail-order brides? You’ve got a letter from Latvia or summat.’
‘Don’t talk daft. Give it here.’
The letter’s sandwiched between two catalogues. I turn to go indoors; he hovers then stalks off down the path.
‘Don’t let her take advantage,’ he calls over his shoulder.
‘Piss off, you nosey bugger,’ I say.
The letter is written in a strong hand:
Dear Mr Brown,
My name is Maksim Koppel, from Estonia. You may not be aware, but our fathers served together in WW2. My father had the honour of being able to save your father’s life when they parachuted behind enemy lines. Your father was hit by a bullet that narrowly missed his heart.
My father passed last month, aged one hundred. At the end, he had this wish: he asked me to send his respects to you and your countrymen, and to express his belief that all the peoples of Europe must stand together, unified. He became frightened the war may have been in vain. Forgive me for troubling you, but he meant well,
Yours,
Maksim
The postie opens the gate, I expect it’s all rubbish.
‘Hello mate,’ he says. ‘You after one of those mail-order brides? You’ve got a letter from Latvia or summat.’
‘Don’t talk daft. Give it here.’
The letter’s sandwiched between two catalogues. I turn to go indoors; he hovers then stalks off down the path.
‘Don’t let her take advantage,’ he calls over his shoulder.
‘Piss off, you nosey bugger,’ I say.
The letter is written in a strong hand:
Dear Mr Brown,
My name is Maksim Koppel, from Estonia. You may not be aware, but our fathers served together in WW2. My father had the honour of being able to save your father’s life when they parachuted behind enemy lines. Your father was hit by a bullet that narrowly missed his heart.
My father passed last month, aged one hundred. At the end, he had this wish: he asked me to send his respects to you and your countrymen, and to express his belief that all the peoples of Europe must stand together, unified. He became frightened the war may have been in vain. Forgive me for troubling you, but he meant well,
Yours,
Maksim
