News about Fred Dibnah

Nigel, my darling husband, was a death for ten years. His feet dragged as the life dripped from him like water from a faucet, causing him to languish in a world where there is no mercy - his astute, tortured soul entombed in a frozen, paralysed body. He had motor neurone disease (MND) and feared the final stages, where he knew he would be both alive and dead. You have nothing if you had no choice. He's lucky,' he'll say. I get to choose how and when I die.' What he did - a true man's man, with three children he adored, a social, gregarious person who was always smiling and joking, a common figure in the pub, rugby club, and golf club - wanted to end his days at Dignitas, Switzerland.