Mr Fish

Mother,

I'm not sure I'm able to get down for Mr Fish's funeral. Of course I shall make every effort to be there but I am up to my eyes with work at the moment, some of which is with some very important clientele.
I'm sure I don't have to tell you how sorry I am to hear of the accident. Sorry and somewhat surprised. Wasn't Mr Fish an ex soldier? I'm sure I remember (when I was a boy), him telling me of his escapades on the front line. I remember quite clearly watching him pruning in the rose garden whilst at the same time he regaled me with tales of derring-do. To this end one wonders why a man of Mr Fish's experience didn't immediately recognise an unexploded shell the moment he saw it. To manhandle it like he must have to cause it to explode, seems a very odd thing to do, although to be fair I do know that his eyesight was not what it once was. One can only hope that it was quick for him.
You say that the greenhouse was completely destroyed and that the body was spread over a large area. What a sad end to a great gardener and very loyal friend. Although I have to say it was how he would have wanted to go. Before you shed too many tears mother dear think on this, Mr Fish is still, in a different way still tending the garden for you. He is STILL, improving the soil and encouraging the worms to do their valuable work.
However, Mr Fish will be irreplaceable. His ruddy face and toothless smile will be missed. They just don't make them like that anymore. Did your orchids survive the blast?

your loving son A xx