GRANDAD IS UNWELL

I’m due to see Grandad tomorrow but I got a call yesterday saying he’d been taken to hospital becasue his health had deteriorated.
‘It only hurts when standing or walking,’ he says of his leg. ‘When I’m sat down I don’t notice it.’
I can see how painful it is by the look on his face when he moves.
‘I used to go to Molly brace’s place out at Severn Beach. The Bookie - I don’t remember his name - would give me a lift. If he’d had a good day he’d buy me a drink.’
‘What if he’d had a bad day?’ I said.
‘He’d buy me a drink then as well. He was never short of a bob or two, even on a bad day.’
‘I suppose a good day for him was a bad day for someone else.’
‘I never liked the horses,’ he said.
I took a sip of coffee.
‘Molly Bracey,’ he said. ‘She’d play the piano and sing. I’d have a couple of ciders. Kingston cider, it was. Just a couple, that’s all.’