In the Memory

Hugo went crazy over Sammy when she came this morning, as if he was starved of company that wasn't me after a houseful over Christmas. Luckily she loves him too, and gave as good as she got. She had come on a special mission, and she didn't fail. My father's brief RAF wartime career has long fascinated me, but I had only sparse information until a week ago when I was given his flying log book. This was really thrilling as I had no idea it even existed, but I couldn't make much sense of it. Sammy could. Within a few hours I had discovered that, far from spending long hours in a freezing rear gunner's capsule while flying over Germany and dropping bombs, he spent most of his service undergoing training and only managed two operations before the war ended. I felt emotional and giddy with relief, like one of those people on Who Do You Think You Are who discovers that her nine-times great grandmother was not in the workhouse but sitting on the English throne. I had dreaded the thought of him in that tiny space being terrified out of his wits, and it hadn't really happened. When he used to say things like "We dropped a load over Dresden" he didn't mean him personally but the RAF.

When she'd gone I knuckled down to those horrible jobs that all seem to come together. I bought Medlar Cottage three years ago in three weeks time, and so I have to renew the house and contents insurance, and the phone and broadband contracts, as well as car insurance and breakdown cover. I hate these tasks, but a trip to GoCompare quickly showed that you get a massive discount in the first year which is not subsequently repeated, so why would you stick with the same company? Already I've saved a few hundred pounds, but the stress is awful. I feel as if I've been force-fed caffeine in vast quantities.

Finally free from computer research I lit the wood burner and settled in front of a recording of the final of Christmas University Challenge with my supper on my lap. When the music round came I answered all four questions within seconds of hearing the music: Beethoven's Eroica, Tchaikovsky's Pathetique, Mahler's Resurrection and Mozart's Jupiter. I have an odd capacity to get the name immediately after just a few chords, provided I know the piece of course. If only my sister had been here to witness my brilliance!