It's just over a month since his great-grandson Andrew was born here in the Canary Islands to his 16-year-old granddaughter – my daughter Valentina – whom "Grandad" as I call him, never met in the flesh as she was born after he died.
As I recount in earlier blogs, Grandad talks to me in a unique "language of coins" which he's developed specially for this purpose.
So, this morning Andrew and I set off on our mountain bike to deposit money at the bank so I could buy him some toys I've found on eBay. Andrew was riding in the sling on my chest and had the usual slightly surprised look on his face that he gets when the warm wind rushes over it and ruffles his hair.
And there it was – the 10-cent coin – lying not in the middle of the road, nor in the gutter or on the pavement, but exactly where my front bike tyre would run over it.
As I got off my bike to pick up the coin I said hello to Grandad.
When we got to the bank I presented the 10-cent coin to the cashier together with the banknotes I'd brought to pay into the account. That would make it clear to Grandad, if such a thing were needed, that I'd accepted his gift as part of the money which would pay for Andrew's first toys.
Off we went back home to order the toys. Grandad, we're waiting to hear from you again! Meanwhile, look after yourself *hug*