When I was very small (maybe 3 or 4 years old) my grandfather, who lost the sight of one eye from a bullet fired by a German sniper (fortunately not a very good one) during the Battle of the Somme in World War 1, wiped my face with the corner of his apron, an apron he had used to wipe his filleting knife on. He was a grocery shopkeeper who specialized in wet fish. I can remember the instantaneous pain and swelling in my eyes, the panic-driven breathlessness, the weeping blindness. The shouting, the accusations, my parent’s panic. My poor grandfather was only trying to clean the face of his grubby grandson. That was when I discovered I was allergic to fish. View all posts