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The Camel.  

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Guy Mitchell 2nd draft 23 June 2003 The Camel As a child my father worked hard and seemed to be constantly at work. My mother enjoyed various activities set up by the WI and parish society and every Friday my mother went to sewing club. I would stay at my grandfather's house. He was jolly but a slightly bewildered aging man. He had been an officer in the Great War who got shot in the leg during his time in Belgium and received many and silver and gold medals that he cherished but would not tell me what they were for. He lived alone in a grand Edwardian Mansion but only used three rooms. I barely saw him while I was there. He would sit in the living room and read a book for five minutes after which he would fall asleep. I would run through the long corridors upsetting dust that had not been...

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