Malcolm Matthews

My home – is steeped in memories of Martin. There isn’t a corner of the house that doesn’t make me think of him.

This photo is taken in the room where he died. I’m on the sofa where he sat with his arms round Steph and Becky. The banjo that he played on his last day is next to me. The rabbit that was found on the street and went to hospital with him on nearly every visit is by my shoulder. The photo Jeannie555 took is on the wall.

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