World War 1 ghost story

In memory

November is here and to the many the next thing is Bonfire night. As an animal lover, I plead with you to make sure our furry friends are safe, they can't understand the noises and flashes and don't forget to check your wood for hedgehogs - to them, a pile of timber is a place to stay warm.

Not that I need reminding, to me November means one thing - remembering the fallen and damaged lives, who gave their lives for our freedom. Being ex-services, I carry with me a constant reminder of my days in the Royal Air Force. My left tendon ripped, and I am waiting for the right muscle to become torn.

Two years ago, I wrote my story From Elgar to Vaughan Williams as a commemoration of what became known as The Lost Generation. Young men and women who went to war, and returned broken in spirit - some scars are not physical - I knew a man who had nightmares about the Burma railway death marches.

I dedicated my book to my late grandfather who fought with the East Yorkshire Regiment in #WW1. I didn't get to know him as we moved when I was eight.