I was going to write about this funny old comic world, the moonlit beach last night, the Manga girls' obsession with a thing called Sailor Moon, spider bites and the armadillo watch. But my mother texted me to say that my uncle died today and that's all I can think about now.
In recent times his role as caretaker to his wife (who has MS) took its toll on him, reducing our infrequent interactions to dark humour, and outrageous opinions expressed in massively booming voice. But when we were small, and he was a long-legged 25 year old with an unlikely beard, who could make anything, and fix anything, we four cousins used to jump all over him, and he gave us wonderful presents at Christmas. I remember this most miraculous and unexpected Sindy wardrobe:
I don't know what became of it, (where do these things go?) but I remember the exact feel of the white plastic drawers as I reverentially slid them in and out, the way the doors swung open on their hinges. I couldn't imagine anything better - it seemed extraordinary that my uncle had been able to reach into my head, see my dreams and get something even better.
Goodbye Uncle R, and thank you. Another of the old guard is gone.