 David Hough was my partner in this book project |
“You met my late husband?” Er, no, actually I didn’t, is often my reply. I would like to have done, sure.
Writing obituaries is often an exercise in “meeting” after the event. Such contact, over conversation, over coffee, over both, can lead to something like friendship. The question from a wife or family member, about any possible meeting, is a source of comfort. The implication is that my work has done justice to a life well lived. |
Likewise, a reader may call to make the point: “I’d like to have met the doctor you wrote about in last week’s paper.” So would I, is often my reply. |
Balmy in Barmouth
 Low tide, high hills . . .the Mawddach River at Barmouth, Wales |
Romance brought us lads tripping to Barmouth, one of North Wales’ 1001 scenic spots. It’s not Valentine’s Day-type romantic excess. More a quintet on a quest – five chaps confirming yet again that, yes, our yesterdays are a uniting force. It’s a little bit romantic, I think, to be thus adding another link to the chain that connects us.
On the fringe of Snowdonia, it was grey hair and grins. We had all been in grey shorts and long socks on starting at Brighton, Hove and Sussex Grammar School in the summer of 1959. That first day was extremely warm for September, one of us recalls. Fifty-six years on it was not exactly sweltering in the last days of September 2015. It was balmy, sort of. Sunny, definitely. Stroll-friendly. Months before this muster I had been warned that the west coast of Wales could be wet and windy. As someone who has lived in Wales, I know all about that. A howling gale and rain during our stay would have been less romantic. |