Sunday

Sunday, yes.
25th September?
It says so on the calendar...

Not a significant date as such. Simply a lovely sunny day.

And that was how it came about - us being in the woods, the three of us; myself, hubby and son. Well, four of us, if you count Uncle Mike.

He wasn't an Uncle as such. He was my husband's godfather. And his real name wasn't Mike. It was Wladyslav and he was born in Poland in 1917.

He had always said that he had no desire to go back to Poland and had been very happy about the decision to live in the UK after the war and liked to regard himself as British. He had lived most of his adult life in Hertfordshire, but had spent his last few years up here in Lancashire, living as independently as he could, until the time came for him to move into a nursing home.

It's over three years since he died and today we scattered his ashes in these woods, here in Lancashire.

Time to raise a glass of whisky to Uncle Mike. Goodness me, he was fond of the stuff!

To Uncle Mike.

Cheers!