Our Sort of Bomb,
Digging near his home in Cottishall in Norfolk in September 2004, David Page unearthed a rusting piece of metal resembling a camping gas cylinder. Only when he pushed the button at one end did it occur to him that this might be a highly dangerous unexploded bomb. Clearly something had to be done.
Sweating with fear, he phoned the police and was told not to let go. With tremendous ingenuity he taped the device to his hand so he could not release the trigger-like button. 'I was absolutely terrified that I would be blown into a million pieces. The woman police operator kept telling me that it would be OK, but I said to her "You're not the one holding the bomb"'.
As an extra precaution he buried his hand in a barrel of sand, 'I thought, "If it does go off I hopefully only lose my arm"'. What a man.
Police arrived and cordoned off a two-mile area, then called in the army. 'Tell my family I love them if the worst happens', Mr. Page told the police telephone operator. There was no need because his equally courageous wife Joanne now arrived and refused to leave his side.
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You know him too Mick...