Today I sang with a Legend

At least, the legend sang, when he knew the words, I just mumbled along singing in the way that only a person who cannot hold a tune in a bucket can sing when in public.......under one's breath. And there were a lot of other people there too. But, technically, I did sing alongside, if not actually with a legend.

Today was Steven's funeral. For someone who alleged that he didn't have many friends, the small crematorium was full and people were standing outside. It is difficult not to be trite when talking of a funeral, so I won't try. It was a lovely service, even if the vicar did insist on calling him Steve when he hated being called that. We saw a lot of people that we hadn't seem for many years - as it ever is at funerals. Funerals remind us of those loved ones we have lost and perhaps several tears are shed for them as well as the person we are there to mourn. Funerals also put us in mind of our own mortality, quickly forgotten once you drive away from the service.

The reading was from a Joyce Grenfell passage, perhaps not an uncommon one for a funeral but poignant nonetheless:

If I should go before the rest of you Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone, Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice But be the usual selves that I have known. Weep if you must, Parting is hell, But life goes on, So sing as well.

Oh, you want to know who the legend was? Dave Gilmour. Steven would have been in fits of laughter at how starstruck I was. A fitting way, then, to say goodbye.