This morning's Press and Journal carried the story of the body found at the bottom of my Dad's garden. But without adding much. Yes the body was found by the paper boy at 7.15 a.m. - about an hour before I arrived. The body has still not been identified. And the cause of death is being described as uncertain. Not suspicious, but equally not, so far, as natural causes.
Later in the day, I found out rather more. The deceased is Davy Leighton, a resident of the same sheltered housing complex in which my Dad lives. Indeed I have passed Davy Leighton's room each evening on my way to the guest room. As a further irony, I knew Davy Leighton from the time he was Secretary at Keith Golf Club. And had spoken to him when I was up in Keith at Easter.
The word in Keith is that he had been knocked down by a car on Friday morning but refused medical treatment. On Friday evening he went to the pub. And that is the last that is known until his body was found on Saturday morning. Presumably he collapsed on his way home on Friday evening. I left my Dad's house at about 10.45 pm on Friday. If I had been any later, I might have seen Davy Leighton returning home and might have been able to help.
It is all very sad. And a real example of how tenuous life can be.
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