Last night’s banter in the FOB continues this morning. It is good natured though, funny even (sometimes) and I have to confess more than a little tamer than I imagined. It’ll probably ramp up as the week goes on though…
The weather continues to be English Spring-like and we get some showers during the morning, but it is warm enough. We get through a ton of work in the morning to clear debris from a property that was completely devastated. The family car is out front; the driveway was on a slight incline and we seem the streams of molten metal running away from it. Inside the shell of the house bricks are brittle, any many have simply broken into pieces such was the heat. We find more molten metal, and molten glass. There is virtually nothing left; we find a small jewellery box, charred and warped, which we wrap and put carefully to one side. Just about the only item we find intact is a mug which reads “Dad, you’re the Best”. Later the owner comes up with a close family friend. She tells us the story: it’s too harrowing to repeat. As I write I can feel the tears running down my cheeks: “Dad, you’re the Best” doesn’t do it justice. It was a single-story brick built place with a tin roof, very typical. It had beautiful views, a lovely garden, a terrace and a pool. When we leave it looks not dissimilar to photo’s I’ve seen of Hiroshima; something the family friend said too, so it’s not just me.