#100happydays 10/100

I went to a funeral on Monday 10th. The funeral of a lovely man who occupied the same space at the end of the bar in the pub I started drinking in when I was 16 18 (honest), as he did when I started working in the same pub at the age of 32 and the 10 years thereafter.

He was a proud Yorkshireman, a Sheffield Utd supporter, the driest of dry wits, and great great company. We talked about rugby, football, general nonsense, crosswords, "us Blades" and "us Dragons", we'd always ask him the ones on sport in the quiz, and occasionally he'd be adventurous and swap his pint of bitter for a Vino Collpaso (red wine) or a Caribbean ("bacardi and coke, slice of lemon, 2 cubes Janey").

I've blipped about the pub previously here It's a proper local pub, full of regulars - more than regulars, friends. Friends who adored Dave. On Monday, about 40 of us gathered outside the pub to pay our respects as the hearse went past, before walking behind it up to a packed funeral service. The wake was held in the pub, with a large photo of Dave beaming at us from behind the bar, and a pint in his honour in his usual place. People who I'd not seen for years, coming together to share their memories, say their goodbyes. We laughed, we cried, we sang all his favourite songs. He would have loved every minute.

A happy day? Of course not. But a reminder that our own happiness often comes from those with whom we choose to surround ourselves.

Nos da Dave. It was the saddest of days, I have the happiest of memories xxx