My grandmother and her friend Norman rehearsing for a London radio show. She was the funniest, sweetest person. Other than when she was out in the field as an army nurse, bandaging soldiers, tap dancing, and singing for them, she lived through the entire war in London. In 1941 she met my grandfather, a Spitfire pilot, after they dove underneath a nightclub table during an air raid. The rule back then was: don’t leave the bottles of alcohol to be destroyed by explosives, bring them under the table with you. During the war, people would have the most interesting experiences and conversations while stuck under a table for hours at a time.
I sat by her side as she passed from lung cancer at age 82. The last thing she said to me was “cheers darling!” from her bed in her London flat that she had lived in for over 40 years. She lifted her hand up *weakly* as she said it – very much like this.

Author: Subterraneans


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