Well, he finally made his mind up. After 6 weeks of umming and aahing, my Grandad finally decided it was time to shuffle of this mortal coil. He's survived an awful lot over the years including:
* swallowing a pencil and puncturing his windpipe
* getting blind drunk (aged 83) and falling down a hole round the back of the pub, pulling a beer barrel on top of him for extra fun as he fell
* falling off a ladder 3 storeys up
* crashing his car, refusing all help from a paramedic, telling them to bugger off and heading straight to the pub
* falling asleep at the wheel whilst driving me home from school
He was a total legend, he could remember everything, from the kind of tiles they had on the pigsty floor in the house where he grew up, to the best way to tickle a trout. He used to keep the entire pub next door enthralled with his stories, they'd be dribbling into their pints with anticipation when he walked in. He once poached two ducks for our Christmas dinner. He appeared on a documentary about country life, and his voice was all squeaky because he'd inhaled too much polish whilst cleaning his shoes the day before. He drank, and smoked and rejected my mum's organic chilli con carne in favour of going down the chippy. He's lived with us all my life. We're going to miss him too much.