Today we remember an old family member who died sixteen years ago today. He had incurable cancer and could no longer walk or eat. My then girlfriend who was a devout Roman Catholic pointed out that it was Ascension Day which I found oddly comforting. Not a day goes by that I don't remember the old boy, and I fondly think of him in the afterlife mentoring Biggles (who dies six years ago this October) in the fine art of tearing open black bags of rubbish. As anyone who knows Prudence and Archie will attest, I am afraid that my companion canids have never been that well behaved. But then again, of course, neither am I.
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