i have always had a thing about ukeleles. blame it on my dear old granddad dunka. his name was actually duncan, he was my mum's father and he was quite an amazing man. he served in both WW1 & WW2 and became quite a high ranked, well decorated soldier. he wrote about a lot of his adventures and misadventures - like the time he and his troops were trapped on crete and had to scatter and live like guerillas, hiding from the nazis, until he managed to sneak them all off the island safely in fishing boats.

when mum died i inherited half of the family household items and a few precious things. these included my grandfathers original and published writings, many of them scribbled on notebooks in trenches. and more importantly. ..

his ukelele. the one he carried through a number of battle fields. he used to play it to me as a little girl. i would sit perched on a little stool at his feet and listen wide eyed to his stories and grin at his ukelele songs. my aunt tells me that we used to have grand old conversations, too, about the world in general. he died from emphysema (the same disease that took my mum) caused by the sand and battle chemicals in egypt in WW1.

whenever i see a ukelele, i think of him. i still have that old ukelele, it's in a pile of boxes in a storage shed in west end, brisbane. i can hear it from here.