ON the Monday before last, I met my son and daughter in the Coffee House, in Liverpool Road, to have a coffee together and to discuss my wife’s ongoing care.
When we got to the care home, I found I was without my wife’s camera, on which I’d taken pictures of her beloved garden. I thought I must have left it at home.
I hadn’t been back home very long when the phone rang.
“Hello, Coffee House here. We’ve got Mrs Grant’s camera. A customer has handed it in.”
With all the reports of snouts in troughs in sport and in high places, this is delightful proof that good, old-fashioned honesty is alive and well. Thank you, friend, whoever you are.