Pete

Our neighbour has passed away. The house we live in used to be his house. His house is where we would go for drinks and cakes. He has lived up this little lane for such a long time. How will we remember him? Maybe we could name our house Next Door To Pete's, yes that should do it.

I'm an interloper really. I've only been here for fifteen years. But I was made welcome. Pete and his wife Ann loved to tell of their earlier days in Louth. They asked me to read and write poetry. They were thankful, and grateful for what I gifted to them.

Which of course was no more than my turning around the very stories which they themselves had given out. Pete once told me that his father had walked from Scotland to Louth with cloth which he would sell door to door. I believed him entirely.

Actually, Pete would tell his stories many times over. He was a charming man. A well-dressed man. A good shopkeeper. A loving and loved husband. A loving and loved parent. He was also, which we only found out recently, a more than competent photographer. Perhaps an exhibition of Pete's photographs would be another good way to remember him.

Kate is going to be the celebrant at Pete's funeral. She was way closer, as she always is.

x

Pete

Aren’t I awful
Drizzle cake
Chocolate cake
Pete; can you get the tea

It’s done with love
All done in the name of love

Camping in the car, oh dear me

Pete; who’s at the door, can you see

Says she doesn’t know much
Then quotes Innisfree

Pete - she says she’s not so bright

Then talks of Masefield, by the sea

Another glass of wine
Pete - please for Kate and me
And a Boddingtons for Christopher

Fanciful, fanciable, fancy-free

Aren’t I awful
I’ve missed the football, I’ve
Slept since half-past Three
Pete; who wants some more, can you see