The morning disappeared rapidly, and before I knew it, we were on our way to Farewell for the service. The hedgerows had just been trimmed and had no leaves, but it was still the treacherous, one-laned two-way road that I remembered. We made it to the church on time, and most of the guests had beaten us to it. Mick Jones was the only one who hadn’t arrived, but Pete managed to get hold of him. His SatNav had led him to the wrong St Bartholomew’s and he had gone close to Birmingham before he realised. Fortunately, he was at Lichfield at the time the service started, so by the time he arrived, he had only missed the first hymn.
The service went well. It was amicably led by Rev Martin Butt, the hymns were cheerful and sung loudly, and the eulogies were positive and blended well together. Pete was the first to speak, and his eulogy detailed his earliest memories of Dad and his time growing up together before he went to the navy, and of the few times when he popped back to England. Mum’s eulogy picked up where Pete’s left off, and covered his life in New Zealand and his love for his family. Finally, my eulogy concentrated on Dad as a father and his influence on my life. Pamela read John 14: 1-6 and only just held it together. I was most upset when she sat down behind me and I saw the sadness on her face.
Several of Dad’s acquaintances of his youth were also at the funeral, and everyone was invited to lunch at The Malt Shovel; a bar just around the corner from Farewell. We all had a nice meal and it was good to remember Dad fondly and share our memories in a happy environment. The Hall family were very sad to leave as it was the last time that we would see them on this trip – Rachel the most. However, it was comforting to think that it was likely we would see them again soon.
Mick joined us at Pete and Lynn’s house, and we had a nice time catching up with him and listening to his memories of his time in the navy and meeting Dad in a base in the Gulf.
Rob’s mate Steve had just arrived back from a long holiday in New Zealand and Australia (small world), and so Rob, Lucy and their mates were going out on the town. Rob invited me to join them, so Lynn and I picked up Rob and Lucy and dropped us on Friar Gate. I had a great time meeting Rob’s mates, some of them for the second time (from Rob’s birthday, six years ago) and checking out the local scene.
We went to three pubs all within a stone’s throw of each other (Varsity, Indigo and The Pitcher & Piano), and each was heaving with a sea of people and ear-splitting music. The best place for the group to go was outside to the smoker’s area where it was quieter and under gas lamps. The only drawback was the smell of cigarette smoke that permeated into my clothes. I decided right from the start to stick to pints of Guinness, and nursed them through the night. I had intended to catch a cab home at around 11:00 pm, but when I asked what the time was, it was 1:30 am already, so I decided to stick around until closing time.
When the pubs closed, everyone moved next door to the Turkish restaurant. Before I knew it, Lucy shoved a container into my hand containing Chips, Cheese and Mayonnaise. I picked up a taxi and headed back to Breadsall. It was about 3:00 am when I finally went to sleep.
