A sad farewell

So, we bid farewell to another British summer, if it ever existed. I went to a funeral yesterday of a former vicar, Ken Hayes, of the local church in Gillingham. I thought a long-sleeve shirt, buttoned up to the top with a tie, would be enough, but the musty church in Sidcup where the service was had a chilly temperature inside that made the breeze outside refreshing. I shifted my shoulder blades several times in my chair just to produce warmth through movement.
From the road the church built in the early 1930s looked like a glorified scout hall, but its more ecclesiastical trimmings became more obvious the closer one got as they were no longer obscured by the trees. The bell tower was small but looked Mediterranean in its tiling and styling. The flag flying at half mast and it was a design by the deceased, who was a dab hand at craftsmanship and design. Inside hung a decent picture of the Holy Lamb, one of fifty copies Ken had made for people. There were hymns to inspire people and the last two were overtly associated with joy, 'Lord, the light of Your love is shining (Shine, Jesus, Shine)' and 'The trees of the field shall clap their hands'. I'll always remember Ken's smile, since he always sought to be happy to inspire others.