Pulling at their old-and-mild in the local pub last week, Norfolk yokels guffawed with native pride as they read in London’s Sunday Referee all about their 103-year-old pal George Skeet, “Britain’s most wonderful father.” A lad of 25 in 1858, George took a wife, who bore him two sons now aged 60 and 69. “The marriage,” reported the Referee, “pursued the unruffled happiness of a rural England idyll till George was eighty-eight.” Then his wife died. George, however, “felt that he had years ahead of him.” At 90 he took a second fling at matrimony, wed a girl of 18. Now he has two more children, aged 2 and 5. Asked last week by the Referee if she was happy, Mrs. Skeet, “with a look of almost reverence in her eyes,” said: “He is the most wonderful man in the world.” Asked what he thought of modern young people, George chuckled: “What do I think of ’em? Well, I married one, didn’t I? And I never did a better day’s work in my life than when I married her.”
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