Ashes to ashes, Dave to St Dafydd

As I sat down to eat at the pub after a beautiful memorial service for CleanSteve's old friend Dave, who should have been 80 today, I had no idea I was sitting next to to the urn containing Dave's ashes!

Dave died a month ago. He'd had Parkinson's for almost thirty years. I learned so much about him from the people I spoke to today. Generous of spirit, funny, creative, eccentric, an inventor, music lover, Buddhist, journalist, photographer, father, husband, grandfather, Sinophile, to name but a few epithets.

Dave spent his final years in Abergavenny, near his son and grandchildren, in a flat near the doctor's surgery and the pub. Practical, that's what he was! 

The weather in England was filthy and wet, but in Wales the sun shine and the daffodils were blooming. About a year ago, Dave started a singing group amongst his neighbours. They were called the Wednesday Warblers, and Dave designed their logo and badge. Amongst others, they sang at his memorial service in the Chapel arts centre. Such a beautiful service, and venue. We also stuck our heads into the Abergavenny market hall, because it's too good to miss: so colourful and varied in its stalls.

I'm so glad we both made it (to 60 and 74, and to Abergavenny). Most of the guests were looking a bit long in the tooth About the time they were growing 'tomatoes' in their geodesic dome greenhouses, I was probably climbing a rock on Achara hill or in Arisaig, aged 11.