It's exactly a year since my wife said her last words to me - she was in intensive care and sedated for the last three weeks of her life. Her last words were - "You did that on purpose, you bugger!"
Which is a lovely way to remember a remarkable woman.
We used to read poems to each other - here's a bit of doggerel.
Brian and Laura
What a fucking happy pair we were!
To sit, at night, with telly off-
Reading Wilfred Owen to each other.
For light relief some Sylvia Plath -
Never Ted, cause he's too dark.
Some Rupert Brooke - or Donne for those black days
When life cannot bring forth its spark.
And then again - there is John Cooper Clarke.
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That's funny, I like that
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