Andrew was my uncle. We lived together many years ago when I was at university. His extremely dry and devilish sense of humour struck a chord. I did the sitting for his portrait in the ward where he was convalescing, Was he channeling Catweazle?
Andrew had a troubled life, but one which was common for the time. After growing up in a household with an absent and abusive father, and a mother who died from a 'botched' abortion, he enlisted in the forces and did a tour of duty in Asia. He lived with a woman but never married. He did various accounting jobs which led to time in prison. He moved back with his step mother and when she died he lived alone - with the exception of my time with him. Finally he moved 'into rooms' at various pubs, letting his health deteriorate to such a state that he had several stints in hospitals where he was diagnosed with throat cancer. 

We reconnected at this time. The nearest facility we could find for him was 200 kilometres away. He ended up near Bowral and my mother and I visited him there until the end.