The Funeral

Well I went to the funeral, and it seemed that a lot of the rest of the town had as well. So many were there that loudspeakers had been set up in the churchyard, which was filled with people wanting to say goodbye. Of course as well as being a teacher, he was also a local historian (with a few published books about the history of Crawley), a church warden, spent time in voluntary work, and was one of the people responsible for starting the first Crawley Festival (which is now an annual event). All of these things I already knew but at the service yesterday, they were all put together. If anyone could ever be called a "pillar of the community" it's Roger Bastable.

Following the service, there was an invitation to go to my old school for a wake. By that time of course I'd been standing for over an hour and it was all I could do to stagger back to the car, going anywhere but home to bed ... even had I wanted to ... was not an option.

Today finds me feeling melancholy and contemplative, I'm glad I went yesterday but terribly regretful that I hadn't taken the time to talk to him when I saw him shopping in Sainsburys, or walking around the town prior to his illness. Also, of course, I am filled with feelings of inadequacy, feelings that I too would like to be remembered as someone who really made a difference to his community ... and feelings that for all my fine aspirations, I never will.

I strongly suspect that my gravestone will read, as did so many school reports: "Could do better".