Meet my Grandad, Albert. A great tinkerer with cars and fixer of things. Maker of demon brandy sours. iPad wizard (in his 90s). The type of unassuming chap who liked to sit in the corner and observe proceedings, often chuckling gently.

He landed on Gold Beach in Normandy just about this time on 6th June, 1944. He never spoke of what he did or witnessed there - perhaps he couldn’t? Perhaps it’s just that he was that kind of diffident man - a true humble hero who saw it as his duty? Only once did he mention it - when someone remarked on what a harrowing watch Saving Private Ryan is. “I know,” he said quietly. “I was there.”

He died, at the grand old age of 97, but here he is at the 75th anniversary of D-Day, looking exceedingly dapper.