G G Jean
Brummy Wench.
Popped out to the shops today when Peter received a phone call from Dereck the nephew of the lady who once owned Brad and wrote that lovely poem. Apparently the postman went back to Betty's house a few times and the poor soul had died in her bed. What neighbours must she have had. She wasn't on the phone which would have alerted friends who lived far away. Her best friend who lives on a farm had a fall and ended in hospital for 5 weeks. Two of Betty's other friends died recently and her little budgie also died. I am sure she sent Brad the gift as she knew something was amiss. People think she just gave up. Dereck said she never got over Brad going but wanted him to go somewhere where he could go for propper trips in the car to the park. Her friend from the farm had to take her driving test because of her age and they sent her down to Bristol for it and made her drive in another car and not her own. She had a clean driving licence and I guess they just wanted her off the road. She did fail her test and couldn't get to see Betty as often. It's a horrible feeling as I was so chuffed to make someone happy and all the time she had been dead. Bye. Jean.