This man's life: A sea breeze stirs memories of family bonds and bullets
My grandfather had flaming red hair like mine. When he died, aged 53, his hair had gone pure white.
Recently, I was in Skerries, with a cooling breeze moving inshore, when I remembered his story, told to me by my own father before he died.
February 1944. Christopher Egan had come home for his tea. He knew there was something up when there was no noise of his five sons fighting over food to greet him.
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