Swan’s incandescent lamp came to Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the Year of our Lord 1879, three years ago, it was destiny. I wasn’t dead but he was right about one thing I’ve yet to see or feel anything more wondrous than a sky full of electricity. “You should be dead, child.” He clapped me again on the back, a sting of shock passing between us upon contact, and walked away. When it was over, small wisps of smoke curled up from my hair and coat. I stood riveted as my bones rattled and crackled, my blood boiled and a thousand angels screamed in my ears. But I learned that’s how one shows affection to a male child with a touch of force.
“There’s nothing more wondrous than a good, riotous thunderstorm, my boy,” grandfather had said with a gamesome punch to my shoulder that landed too hard. It would seem they wanted to touch me too. Trembling with thrills, I wanted to reach up and touch the delicate vein-like threads of light. White hot arcs threaded across the whole of the charcoal English sky. I was standing in my grandfather’s field just before the storm broke. My first memory is of being struck by lightning.
#Burly men at sea final ending how to#
As an example of how to live no-one could have asked for better, even up to his final days, and his passing on the third of May has left a void. Never short of experiences to share or advice to give he had been a merchant seaman, a kangaroo hunter, and a movie extra, among other things. The reader, Joe Williams, would like to dedicate the reading to their Father who recently passed away: “Allan Williams was Joe’s hero.
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