He was. Overjoyed. He practically galloped to the armchair that I waved to. A photograp. Of him. Paul was excited. And apprehensive.
Here they are, in reverse order.
Paul is still growing into his feet, with a permanent stoop from bending down to listen to us lesser mortals. He is one of those people who moves slow as a tortoise but whose strides are so massive they reach their destination in good time.
He does not know it, but he will be waiting for me to bring the print to him next week. Paul has profound dementia.