Evening Sail

The day of Fred’s funeral which quite dominated the day. I’ve lost both my parents so I know a bit of what it’s like. Until a week or so back, my cousins had lost neither. And to see them turning up, tearful, behind the hearse couldn’t help but strike me anew. 
But my aunt was a tower of strength and sat with them at the front. I sat across, on the other front pew, primed to do my tribute. And a song for Fred - Sunshine on Leith - he was such a Leither at heart, even though he’d lived so long in the leafy suburbs at the foot of the Pentlands. 
So afterwards, we adjourned to his old golf club at Baberton and drinks were poured, tales were told. And some of his old Ferranti colleagues turned up. And how good it was to have so many of the cousin’s children there - all young adults now, one of whom I’d never even met. All great company; that old Leith that Fred was born into must seem a different planet to them, but at least I’ve done the decent thing and passed on the tale of Jack Noble and his Falmouth Quay Punt to another generation.