I remember that I would insistently ask for super noodles when at Grandads house. Patiently and kindly he would make them for me, and sit down with me to watch Mr.Bean. Although I was a grandchild he sparsely saw and when seen was hyperactive, he was always very loving, and with the patience of a saint. He knew I loved all things history so he would enthrall me with stories of his past and the war, showing me pictures of such things as his step-father and military photos. One thing he would never forget to show me were his medals. These are only a few of the multitudes of experience I was able to enjoy with him. All I have in my physical possession from him is the book he gave me on my last visit over, Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson which still lays in my bookcase, but more than that I have the memory of a good man and Grandad. Although I only had exposure to him in the times that I visited, within those times, I never doubted his care for me nor his character.