I am not alone in grief, I know this...

I was at another funeral this week.

This is my third funeral in 3 months.

When I turned 40 a few years back a work colleague said that time would pass quicker, weeks would seem like weekends, weekends like a day and I would go to more funerals that I had ever gone to before I turned 40. He was right.

Most recently, it was one of my wife’s uncles. Before that it was one of my uncles, before that it was another of my wife’s aunts. They had all had good lives and that is what counts. My wife’s aunt and uncle were husband and wife and they were in their 80’s. He passed away 4 weeks after she did. My uncle was in his late 70’s. His wife and daughter survive him.

When my mother died in 2003, she was 72. When her youngest sister died, she was 50. My uncle George died when he was 33; he was my mother’s brother. I was 10 years old when he died and that was my first real experience of grief.

A couple of years ago my fathers auntie died, she was 98, and when my grandfather, my fathers-father died, he was 91.

Since I turned 40, along with other members of my family, I have lost three uncles and three aunts, as well as family from my wife’s side. The majority of the relatives I have lost have been to a disease that medical science cannot yet cure, although a cure, it seems, is ‘around the corner’.

I am not alone in grief, I know this, but I just needed to say the things I have said.

History is important, never forget.

Approximately 5 miles from where I live is a very large-scale industrial area. Its ‘foot-print’ is big and it supplies work for many people in the local and not so local area.

I drive past certain bits of it on the way to and from various places and never really give it a second thought. However, something that catches the eye is, for want of a better description, a red brick wall. On this wall, there is a plaque with a number of flags and a number of names etched upon it.

If you take the time to look at it what you see might come as a bit of a surprise, because this fairly nondescript ‘wall’ commemorates the lives and actions of the Royal Air Force pilots of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the Commonwealth (Anzacs) and those of Poland, The Czech Republic (formerly Czechoslovakia) and Hungary.

This large industrial area has a bit of history about it that I am about to share with you, and I hope you find it interesting and maybe gives you the incentive to have a bit of a look around where you live.

Grangemouth Central Scotland Airport (yes really), was opened in July 1939. The idea was to use this airfield for Volunteer Reserve Training Centre and as a main airport for central Scotland. To the west there was Abbotsinch Airport (now Glasgow International) and to the east Turnhouse (now Edinburgh International).

North Eastern Airways started a passenger service between London, Newcastle, Grangemouth, Aberdeen and Orkney using Dragon Rapides, but when war was declared in September 1939, the Air Ministry (now the Ministry of Defence) commandeered it and all civil flights stopped.

The military quickly changed the site to camouflage colours (greens & browns), from the original white in an attempt to hinder Luftwaffe reconnaissance flights. It was also at this time that the Grangemouth Airport came under the control of No. 13 Command, and Grangemouth was designated one of the Fighter Stations to protect Central Scotland from the Luftwaffe. This role would continue until late autumn of 1940, when the danger of attack was deemed remote, and R.A.F. Grangemouth was removed from Fighter Command.

The largest contingent of aircraft stationed at the site were Supermarine Spitfires and Hawker Hurricanes, both of which would go on to play a major role in what would become the Battle of Britain. The Squadron based there was No. 58 Operational Unit and its role was to teach fighter pilots to fly Spitfires. Many pilots from all over the world trained at Grangemouth and it became the primary base for Polish pilots before joining the R.A.F. Free Polish Spitfire Squadrons.

Many of these pilots would return to Grangemouth as instructors after their operational tours of duty, and Grangemouth would continue to train pilots up until 1944 at which point a Gliding School was introduced to train Air Corps Cadets.

Sadly, the Grangemouth Central Scotland Airport closed in 1955 when Grangemouth Council, who used it for industrial development, acquired the site.

It seems mind boggling to think that approximately 60 years ago, Luftwaffe aircraft where flying over Grangemouth on bombing missions.

I have no idea what it would have been like when the air raid sirens sounded and the low murmur of the inward bound bombers could be heard overhead, and we must admire what our grand parents and great grand parents had to put up with.

Go on, get yourself out and about and see what is hidden around you and maybe let others know. History is important, never forget.

Who can resist the charms of Irene Adler in “A Scandal in Bohemia…?”

With all the important business done for the day, I decided to settle down in the sun and fresh air and contemplate my neat and tidy garden. My wife was visiting her sister and I would have joined her if it were not for my slightly ailing foot.

I sat taking in the lovely view and listening to the sounds of nature all around me, and opened my collected volume of Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Okay, maybe the above statements are not quite the memoirs of Dr John H Watson, MD but I thought it started well. I have indeed spent quite a bit of this afternoon in the garden and with the words or Conan Doyle not before my eyes but streaming from my MP3 player and pouring into my ears.

In my mind, the figure of Holmes is and always will be the late great Jeremy Brett. In my opinion he gave the definitive portrait of the character, as for Dr John Watson, he is personified by the late, and just as great Edward Hardwicke, to some he will always be Major Pat Grant (in reality Major P.R. Reid) in Colditz, but to me always Watson.

I suppose everyone is different, as they read or hear the stories they will have their own images, but Jeremy Brett and Edward Hardwicke are mine. A very, very close second would be the 21^st Century versions portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, but I would never ever have Roger Moore or even Matt Frewer fill the roll. When you think of all the actors who have taken on the roll, Peter Cushing, Ronald Howard, Douglas Wilmer, et al, why did they pick these two? What were they thinking?

I began with “A Study in Scarlet” in a complete and unabridged form and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have to say this re-igniting of my interest in the works of Conan Doyle and in particular, the Sherlock Holmes stories come from recent opening of The Diogenes Club (I would recommend the site http://thenewdiogenesclub.blogspot.com/ to anyone who is ‘into’ Sherlock Holmes). You can also follow them on Twitter. (I should point out that I am in no way connected to or with the site, its just pretty cool that's all).

Today has been the beginning of the Holmes legend, tomorrow if I get the chance I will continue with “The Sign of (the) Four”, after that The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Who can resist the charms of Irene Adler in A Scandal in Bohemia or the redheaded mystery of Mr Jabez Wilson, or the somewhat sad story of Miss Mary Sutherland?

If you don’t have the complete collection of Sherlock Holmes stories on MP3, or the paper version, BBC Radio 4 Extra are currently broadcasting the Bert Coules adapted stories with the inspired casting of Clive Merrison and the late Michael Williams.

Anyway, must get on with real life, dull and depressing as it is.

Now if they gave me a tank or armoured car to play with...

I was hoping to get out and go shooting this weekend with a couple of ‘buddies’ but, even though I am taking medication my foot is starting to play up. In case you have no idea what I mean by this please refer back to "...may-return more often than a badly digested onion ring."
The pain will not be as intense, but will make walking about for any real length of time extremely uncomfortable. I am saddened by the fact I won’t be going. Now if they gave me a tank or armoured car to play with, that might make a difference, well, as long I didn’t have to put my right foot down.

For the next few days I will be ‘up-ing’ my dose and taking anti-inflammatory tablets, as suggested by my doctor. It should make necessary walking less painful, but all ‘fun’ walking is really a no-no.

Jimbo, signing-off.