Still Here

So finally, late afternoon today, they did the operation. A spinal anaesthetic, so he was awake.

And here was the Communist at seven o'clock this evening.

Amazing, really. He'd eaten some quiche and my mother had brought him a nectarine which he ate with great relish. They had taken off the leg below the knee, rather than above it, which pleased him.

"Well, I've been in the hollows of hell today," he said cheerily, "but I can't remember much about it."

Of course, he's not out of the woods yet - the leg has yet to heal, of course. But my mother, Emily, Gareth and I were all there and it was great to see him in such good form. Gareth pointed out afterwards that his head, which was lolling about a bit yesterday, was upright today.

"I'm ready for my peg-leg now," he said, "but I'm a bit tired."

"Well," I said, "you've had a busy day."

"Little man, you've had a busy day," sang the Communist, who has always had a song for every occasion. His singing wasn't quite in the fine baritone he used to have, but I felt that, in the circumstances, it was a damned good beginning.