Dr. David McBrien

I have just finished watching "The Battle of Britain", an old (1969) film I first saw when I was young, and it reminded me of David McBrien, a colleague and a good friend of my father's. By strange coincidence, he died exactly 12 years ago to the day. He flew Spitfires for the RAF during the war, though in all the years I knew him he never once talked about his experiences. He was a wonderful physician, and a stand up no-nonsense man who took no guff from anyone, particularly my father who tended to browbeat people to get his way. David would have none of it. He and Hilary were very kind to my father after my mother passed away in 1989, and I am enormously grateful to them both. His words "... don't you know", which he often used at the end of a sentence to emphasize a point he was making, sound as clear in my head as they did when I was a teenager. He was, without doubt, one of "The Greatest Generation".