though long-lasting, followed a steady trajectory of decline interspersed with sharp and sudden steps down -- never up. Blog entries were written retrospectively so that for Monday 22nd October was written on Tuesday 23rd. On the morning of Wednesday 24th he was hoisted as usual into the chair in his study and he began to prepare the previous day's entry. Soon he began to cough and complain of not being able to breathe. He was taken back to his bed, put on his Nippy respirator and a physiotherapist was called in to work on his chest to try to steady his breathing. The doctor detected an increase of fluid on his lungs and a course of liquid antibiotics was prescribed in the somewhat vain hope that this was due to an infection rather than the general weakening of the lung system. My sister and I were telephoned in London and warned that these developments could well herald the end. Within a few hours the scene for the next eight days was set -- Dad in, or initially occasionally on, his bed with his respirator, wonderful Ross Nursing carers coming every few hours and the equally admirable district nurses appearing to deal with his syringe driver at least once a day. He needed turning regularly to maintain some comfort and initially could still eat a little and take regular drinks. We even had a little time watching his favourite DVDs -- 'The Forstye Saga' or 'Hornblower'. However, over the coming days