Moorhouse Inn
Cold and quiet. Dave Glynn phoned tonight but Ally and I were in the cellar, and when we phoned back Lily said that David has some bad news. He came on the blower to tell us that his grandfather died in the early hours of yesterday morning. He'd been right as rain on Sunday and had cooked breakfast as he always did. Dave heard grandad go to the loo after midnight (Dave was watching American football). Lily couldn't wake him in the morning and Dave went in to see him and found him with a smile upon his face, and very much at sleep. That's the way to go. The funeral is on Monday.
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