Long goodbye

Today was long. Eight hours of driving, 400 miles under the car wheels, on a round trip to Hereford for the funeral of an old friend and former colleague. It was an unusual service, in keeping with his agnostic beliefs. There were no prayers or hymns. Instead we had the haunting sound of a saxophone, an instrument he had loved and had a talent for playing, celebrating his love of music. The funeral comprised a series of eulogies including a brilliant and very moving one written some years ago by the subject of the funeral himself, reflecting on his life and how he would like to be remembered.

The wake was in his home village, at the foot of the Black Mountains between England and Wales. Just before we left for the long drive home, we paused to absorb this view that he was so fond of. RIP Frank, a life lived well.