He began to speak quietly in Mulvanian

Another attempt to clear some stuff today saw us poring over a large number of books.
Some were Observer's books with titles like Birds Eggs and Mosses and Liverworts. These belonged to my brother when he was a youngster with an enquiring mind  and we thought he might have a future as a natural historian.

Others were more obscure like this compendium entitled Chatterbox.
It appears to be a mix of articles like "How the engineer is interested in metal construction" interspersed with short illustated stories like this one, entitled "A price on their heads"

I photographed some of the illustrations as they were such fun.
Other items had me reaching for the tissues-like the letter from my 8 year old brother to Dad when he was in hospital following a stroke.

"Dear Dad, I am very lonely without you"

This was 1956 when children weren't allowed to visit the wards.
My mum took Philip all the way to Hairmyres in East Kilbride on public transport from Glasgow, for him to wave to Dad from the window at the end of the ward.

I had to stop when I came across a letter from our friend following my brother's death in 2004.

" LIke him I was a much wanted adopted son and like him I owe everything to my mother"