New Year's Day

My uncle, Archie Mauchline, died last night at the age of 90 years.  He has been in a nursing home for about 10 years and so was looked after well in his later years.  I'm his executor and now have to look forward to the chores which follow a death.

Archie was the epitome of a likeable rogue.  He had a difficult childhood and left home early to go to sea.  He was in merchant ships during World War 2, mostly on the run between Glasgow and Novia Scotia, but also had a couple of runs to Archangel.  He rarely talked about the war, but it must have been a terrible time.

He had little education but still managed to make a bit of money.  His wife, my Aunt Mabel, was a very careful manager but, after she died, the shackles were released and Archie started to spend his wealth. He was an easy target for a certain kind of female and we know of at least five who were enthusiastic about helping him enjoy life.  After a series of mini-strokes a few years ago, he had to resign himself to a well-behaved retirement but I'm sure he hankered for the days when he carried hundred-dollar bills in his shirt pocket and could book an overseas trip on a whim. 

His sister Peggy and his two nephews who live in Scotland are his only close surviving relatives.