Bob Dowling on the lessons he’s learned
First of all: why me? The whole family knows I never write anything. An old girlfriend once said my letter read like a social security card. My favourite poem is Ode To A Girdle*, partly because of its brevity. And this is a fine time to try to get me to start writing. I’m 98: when I get an idea into my head, I forget what it was before I can write it down. Why not wait till I’m 100?
I live with three of my six grandsons, a seven-year-old and three-year-old twins, in Connecticut. It’s mayhem, but we had four children in four years, so I’m used to mayhem. One time we were going to visit my wife’s parents and had all the kids and the dog in the car. When I started driving, I realised we had left a suitcase on the roof, because our clothes were flying all around the road. When I stopped to retrieve them, the dog tried to get out and I accidentally shut the door on his ear. He flew around the car, shaking blood everywhere and scratching up the kids until everyone was howling.
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