It's been a little ongoing project of mine to transcribe the handwritten memoirs of his experiences in the First and Second World Wars that my grandfather wrote not long before his death in 1974. My intention was - and remains - to gather together not only his writings on the subject, but also a selection of photographs so that I can turn them into a short self-published book for family and friends.
As I say in my (not-as-brief-as-I'd-intended) Introduction, this is not great literature - my Grandad was no undiscovered Sassoon or my family's answer to Wilfred Owen.
The most - possibly the only - notable thing about this brief document is that Private Den Deane fought in Gallipoli and at Ypres and in Italy and on the Somme . . . and survived them all.
I've been taken to task by some readers of this blog for my comments on the current war in Iraq. They spoil the light, provincial ambience of my musings and generally mark me down as an unthinking propagandist, apparently. Well here's another facet to consider - my interest in Iraq goes back further than you might think. To 1922, in fact - when my Grandfather was posted there with the RAF. It was a country that he loved, and he talked about it often, and his set of six engraved Iraqi brass egg-cups sits here in my study as I write this.
Anyway - it's all there for anyone whose thoughts this weekend, like mine, are of Remembrance.