I was a unable to nod off last night, what with the wind shaking the aerial on the roof and an annoying twitch in my legs, so I dug out those old biscuit tins you filled with photos.
My, it was wonderful sifting through them. It was also quite heartbreaking.
I’d forgotten how stunning you looked on our big day. There’s one of us outside St Catherine’s church by the side of that Ford Anglia I used to drive while courting you.
There were other photos that I didn’t even know we had! Pictures of family do’s with people I don’t recognise. You’ve got a few of a chubby, albino child. No idea who that could be.
You really were a busy, little camera lady, weren’t you?
You even took the time to label each tin.
I found Kevin and June’s graduation photos in another. There’s one particular photo with you in the middle of both of them on Kevin’s day, in Leeds. You looked so proud.
I told June, when she rang this morning. She asked me to keep them out for when she comes round next.
She said she might pop over on Friday so I used those clippers on my beard. There was enough hair to fill a pillow case, love! I was going to do my hair, but I’m finding it difficult to reach my crown with a comb, so won’t bother.
Why aren’t you here? You used to make my hair look perfect.
I would give a leg for another five minutes with you.
Must go now.