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My Grandfather lived to the ripe old age of 104 (He had four telegrams from The Queen, and was about 5 months shy of 105 when he passed away). He joined the British Army at the outbreak of the 1st world war with his best friend. My grandfather (Arthur Davolls) wasn't quite old enough to join up, but lied on his application form so he could get out there and see the world and fight for England. Before they left for training my Grandfather and his friend went to see a fortune teller on the seafront in Brighton (they went down from London). The fortune teller was probably inundated with raw recruits at that time asking about their futures, so she told them that my Grandfather would return home quickly, and his friend, Ned, would remain with the forces in Europe. My Grandfather was unperturbed and everything carried on as planned. During their first taste of combat, my grandfather was nonfatally injured, but sent home. His best friend Ned was killed in battle. My Grandfather saw out the rest of the 1st world war at home, and joined the home guard during the second world war. During the Blitz my Grandfather was attempting to investigate some noises coming from a burning house. Unfortunately the house couldn't take the intense damage anymore and decided to give up, right on top of my Grandad. Needless to say he was very badly injured and ended up with a large metal plate in his skull. Fifty plus years later that plate was still there, and so was my Grandad. Rest in Peace Arthur. X

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