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Something (someone) I'm proud of

yourself (disguised enough that you're comfortable sharing the photo) your favorite book (we won't tell any of the others you picked a favorite) merchandise from a fandom (pick your definition of fandom--sports 100% qualify) your exercise equipment the view out a window
something alive a meal a letter/postcard from someone (feel free to redact) something that keeps you sane your computer
a useful tool memorabilia from an event outside wild card a game you've been playing a musical instrument
something someone made for you a gift you're planning to give an outfit you've worn recently (with or without you inside it) something that makes you smile the kitchen sink
something unexpected something funny a bad habit a good habit something you're proud of

Tomorrow is the 75th anniversary of VE (Victory in Europe) Day.

And that got me thinking of my Grandad.  Mr D and I dug out his old wartime photo albums and have been flicking through them.  Even though it's been almost 11 years since we lost Grandad, I'm actually quite overwhemed with how emotional I am looking through them. I've been tearful for nearly an hour now, and don't think that's wearing off anytime soon!

His name was Arthur Ludlow and he was born in 1922 in a part of East London called Forest Gate.

He was a Weapons Technician/Electrical Engineer in the Royal Air Force, and was stationed in Egypt for nearly five years.  One of the great prides of his life was that he worked on Spitfires, and a few months ago, around the 10th anniversary of his death, I bought a plushie spitfire beause it reminded me of him.




I only knew him as my lovely Grandad who I could wrap round my little finger; he doted on me and I doted on him.  He talked about Egypt a lot, but not in the context of the war.  He very rarely spoke about the actual fighting.

Needless to say, I'm very, very proud of him.

Date: 2020-05-13 07:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dizzojay.livejournal.com
I know - and in a time mental health issues weren't recognised, or were considered taboo; stiff upper lip and all that crap.

I know one scar his posting in Egypt did leave on my Grandad, and funnily enough it was nothing to do with the actual war, was the terrible way he saw donkeys being treated there. He could never get over that, and to his dying day, donkeys were always his favourite animal. After he passed, and my Dad was going through his finances, we saw he had four separate monthly direct debits going out to different donkey sanctuaries.

Date: 2020-05-13 04:05 pm (UTC)
ext_19186: Dean the demon hunter (Both PCA rockin')
From: [identity profile] candygramme.livejournal.com
That brought a lump to my throat. What a sweet man!

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