23 of 50

Welcome to my newsletter where I am recounting 50 things – memories, stories, musings, missives from my half-century of life. If you have been forwarded this from a friend or come to it via a social media link and would like to receive it directly each week then you can do so by clicking the link below. It’s completely free and will end when I’ve reached the 50th thing – what happens after that I haven’t decided yet, but I won’t be keeping the email list for any other purpose.

Welcome to new subscribers that have joined this week.

The headteacher at my primary school was a big influence on me. I can’t cite any specific examples of things that he did for me individually, it was more his general demeanour and attitude. He was firm but fair – always, and he treated everyone equally. He would also step out of his role as an authority figure to join in the fun. Whenever it snowed for example he would come out of the school and allow himself to be target for as many snowballs as we could throw at him while he ran a complete lap of the school playing fields. I think he used to count on the fact that he could probably run faster than we could, whilst at the same time trying to make and throw snowballs.

As I moved on from my time in his school we stayed in touch. He retired the year that I left, but of course he stayed active in many different things. When I went to college in the same town as he lived I visited him on a couple of occasions, and we chatted over tea and biscuits.

Sadly he passed away when I was in my late 20’s / early 30’s (I think), I can’t find or remember the exact date but I do have a very vivid memory and funny story of attending his funeral and I think it would have made him smile, so I’m going to tell it here.

His funeral service was held in a very small country church, on a very hot and sunny summers day. It’s one of those days when the last thing that you would have wanted to have been doing would have been wearing a suit and tie, but obviously that’s exactly what we were doing. I’d gone to the funeral with my Dad, as he had also known him too and wanted to pay his respects.

As you do for these things we’d allowed plenty of time to get there just to avoid getting stuck in traffic, of course this meant that we arrived early and rather than sit in a hot car we decided to go and stand under one of the large yew trees in the churchyard in the shade. We were trying to stand there respectfully, sort of “at ease” but no too casual. After a few minutes the vicar arrived, and seeing us standing under the tree came over to speak to us.

“I see you’re trying to keep cool.”

“Yes, bit too warm to sit in the car.”

He nodded. “When’s the body arriving?”

We were a little slack jawed at this, thinking surely that he would have better knowledge on that front than us. “Sorry?” I asked.

“The body. You are with the undertakers are you not?”

“No. I’m a former pupil of the deceased.”

I think that’s the only time I’ve seen a Vicar blush, and I can understand why he might have thought that two men standing in his churchyard wearing black suits and ties might have been undertakers, but I suspect that’s probably the only time he ever made that mistake.

The service was lovely and unsurprisingly very well attended by many friends and family and other former pupils. I’ve been looking to see if I could find anything on-line but there doesn’t seem to be anything published about him, despite knowing that he was in local papers many times.

I’ve also never taken my fledgling career as an undertaker any further. I’m not sure whether being able to look the part is a flattering compliment or not, but it’s not a vocation that I have any intention of following any time soon.

Thanks for reading.