It’s been a week now since Grandad left us. In proper Geordie fashion, he didn’t go without a fight.
That’s the way the Bean Counter’s Dad was: a definite force of nature who loved, loathed, fought and ridiculed, nurtured and cared, in his own unique way.
He loved his family, football, food (especially all those delights a kid born in pre-war England missed out on), horses, and his cat, Simba. The way he showed his love was sometimes baffling, often irksome, but always full throttle.
So Grandad, he of the off-colour stories and angry letters bashed out on the ribbon spool typewriter, the evermore outrageous stories with interchangable leads, the venom and bite, the treacle and bearhugs, has gone…
and the world is just a little bit quieter.