Had a lovely day down at my Mum's yesterday, all sunshine and Spring blossom, which was great.
Arrived home at about 9pm-ish to be greeted by Mr Withay looking very sombre.
When I asked what was the matter, he told me about this:
Charlie was a friend of ours, and a former neighbour. He ran a little but very successful business doing fine art restoration and picture framing. Most of the pictures on the walls in our house were framed by him. He would usually refuse to take money for the work, so we traded him venison sausages.
He only moved out to the Philippines a few months ago and was loving his new life.
He came into the pub a few weeks back on a visit to the UK, and looked like a new man - slimmer, browner, happier.
He was telling us all about his home in Bohol, how he was going scuba diving several times a week, how he'd just bought a new "tractor" - an ox of some sort - to help him with the work on his land, how he was zipping around on a little motorbike with his friends and neighbours all piled on the back.
I can't believe this has happened.