In producing this Epilogue, it was not envisaged that immediately I had finished including the quotation from the Corinthians, that I should learn of the tragedy, that millions of peoples throughout the world would be mourning the loss of the People’s Princess, Diana.

The news of the car accident in the River Seine underpass, in which she and Dodi Fayed were both killed, as well as the driver, Henri Paul, was seen and heard on British television.   This news was conveyed to me at 6 am on Sunday 31st August, when Andrew phoned, “Dad, we are picking up Joy, who will be landing at Heathrow Airport soon.   We will then call to see you, before taking Joy to her digs in Portsmouth.  She will be very tired, travelling from Tanzania overnight, after her 5 weeks midwifery work, among the African natives.”

At the time I received this phone call in bed, I was half asleep, but came awake very quickly when Andrew referred to the sad news of the Princess’s death.

During the week that followed, huge carpets of flowers were laid at Buckingham Palace gates, and other palaces.   Queues of mourners waited eight hours to sign the many books of remembrance at Kensington Palace.   It became apparent that the equivalent to a State Funeral would have to be arranged, with the service taking place at Westminster Abbey.  This was not usually accorded to non-royalty, but the Royal Family had been severely criticised for sticking to protocol.  They had failed to allow the flag to fly half-mast over Buckingham Palace, but had to agree to this being done on the day of the funeral.

Not since VE Day had so many people arrived in London from many parts of the world to bring flowers and cards and pay homage to Diana’s fight for the under privileged.   It was only after her death that the general public were aware of the good that she had done for the humanitarian cause in so many countries.

She used her star qualities wherever she could to raise money for charities and North America could testify to this, where she was almost regarded as ‘their’ princess.  She had visited Bosnia, where she met people injured by land-mines, in her crusade to have a world-wide ban on their use.   She had accompanied Mandela in South Africa, visiting the sick, as she frequently did in Britain.    She was not afraid of holding hands with terminally ill patients with Aids.   Her charity work earned her the title of the ‘People’s Princess’ having had her former title, ‘Her Royal Highness’ removed after her divorce from Prince Charles.   Whatever her title, she remained the mother of Princes William and Harry, the elder of whom could be our future King. 

On 6th September, the day of her funeral, shops closed, all sports fixtures were re-arranged, postal deliveries were cancelled and two minutes silence was observed during the funeral service, which was transmitted live by loudspeaker, and on large television screens to the millions of mourners throughout many lands.

The funeral route had to be extended to Kensington Palace to cater for the millions of mourners lining the route, to watch the funeral cortege with Diana’s coffin being borne on a gun carriage, flanked on either side by a bearer from the Welsh Guards.

The procession was joined by five men as it halted at the junction of Marlborough Road, leading to St James’ Palace where Diana’ coffin, with her body, had lain for five days on its return from Paris.

Prince Charles, the young princes, William and Harry, the Earl Spencer and Prince Philip, dressed in mourning, walked closely abreast behind the gun carriage.

The wide diversity of invited guests who attended the Westminster funeral reflected her many interests and callings.   In addition to the Royal Family and the Spencers’ friends, state, household, there were also around thirty celebrities, including Pavarotti; also a similar number of repres-entatives of organisations, such as the Red Cross.

The country came to a stand-still while the service was led by the Dean of Westminster, Dr Wesley Carr, and the prayers said by the Primate Dr George Carey. In this very moving service, two verses of poetry were read, one chosen and read by Diana’s sister, Lady Jane Fellows - ‘Time’. 

Time is too short for those who wait,

Too swift for those who fear,

Too long for those who grieve,

Too short for those who rejoice,

For those who love, time is eternity. 

During favourite hymns such as ‘The King of Love My Shepherd Is’ being sung, as well as the whole of the service, the cameras showed members of the congregation weeping.

I was very suspicious that a member of the service organisers had read the last page of my Epilogue, by including the same Bible quotation that I had given, as the Lesson read out by Tony Blair, the Prime Minister who read I Corinthians 13, “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels”, ending in, “And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest is love.”

The tribute to Diana by the Earl Spencer contained criticism of the Royal Family and hoped that Princes William and Harry would live normal lives and not be hind bound with protocol by the Royal Family.    He particularly stressed that they should not be hounded by the press photographers, as was Princess Diana, their mother, which was thought to be the cause of her fatal accident in the tunnel.

Another well-known hymn was sung: 

Make me a channel of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me bring your love,

Where there is injury, your pardon, Lord,

And where there’s doubt, true faith in you.

 This hymn was followed by the Archbishop Carey saying prayers for

Diana, Princess of Wales,

For her family,

For the Royal Family

For all who mourn

For the Princess’s life and work.

For ourselves. 

The greatest impact on those both inside and outside Westminster Abbey was the rendering of ‘Candle in the Wind’ played on the piano and sung by Elton John.   A large cheer was given by all those present, and those outside, which continued for many minutes.   The loudness of the cheers from the masses gathered outside the Abbey, who heard the whole of the service from the outside loudspeakers, caused a reverberation within the walls of the Abbey, setting off cheers from the congregation.   This, it was claimed, had never occurred before at a funeral service in the Abbey. 

Here are the words, a rewritten version of a 1974 pop hit, first written with Marilyn Monroe in mind: 

Goodbye England’s Rose,

May you ever grow in our hearts,

You were the grace that placed itself, where lives were torn apart,

You called out to our country,

And you whispered to those in pain,

Now you belong to heaven and the stars spell out your name.

And it seemed to me, you lived your life like a candle in the wind,

Never fading with the sunset when the rain set in.

And your footsteps will always fall here,

On England’s greenest hills,

Your candle burned out long before your legend ever will.


Loveliness we’ve lost,

Empty days without your smile,

This torch will always carry for a nation’s golden child.

And even though we try, the truth brings us to tears,

All our words cannot express,

The joy you brought us through the years.


Goodbye England’s Rose,

From a country lost without your soul,

Who will miss the wings of your compassion,

More than you’ll ever know. 

The final hymn - Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer, was followed by the Primate giving the Blessing.   The service was concluded with the Dean standing before the Catafalque, saying The Commendation.

It was at the west end of the Abbey that the cortege halted on leaving the Abbey for a minute’s silence, observed by the nation.  

The television gave views of airports, railway stations, shops and public scenes of masses along the main roads, all standing in silence and public services coming to a stop.   Later, I learned that many parts of the world, where Diana had visited, doing her humanitarian work, such as South Africa, where the Abbey service had been transmitted live on television, the one minute’s silence was observed; also, by those listening on the radio to the service.   

The Spencers laid claim to her coffin by having her buried on the island site in grounds of Althorp House, hidden by the high walls of the Spencers’ Estate.

Before the cortege could gain access through the main gates, it was necessary to remove flowers strewn by many mourners, both local and from a distance.    The remoteness of this burial place reflected the contrasting views of the Spencer family and the Royal Family, with regards to all aspects of the funeral arrangements, the Spencers wishing to have a private funeral service.

Because of the huge public grief at her passing, where flowers were still being laid at the gates of the royal palaces, a Princess Diana Foundation was set up for the public to show their grief in a practical way, using the money to distribute amongst the many charities she had been connected with.   In a matter of days, several million pounds had been donated, but the one biggest fund-raising was the single record of Elton John singing ‘Candle in the Wind’.  This disc broke all sale records of singles, with a million being sold immediately they had been made available to the public.   The tax-man even donated the VAT on these sales to the Foundation fund, increasing the amount being collected daily, where the demand for these records could not be satisfied.    It was claimed that individuals were trying to buy large quantities, such as 100, and another 40, so that a restriction had to be placed on them per individual.

The television viewing figures on the funeral day had broken the 39 million record of Diana’s wedding with Prince Charles, being 40 million in this country, and an estimated one billion around the world.

The Paris police continued for many weeks to try to identify the cause of the car crash in the Seine tunnel, with the driver having been found to have double the safe amount of alcohol in his blood-stream, and the Paparazzi photographers on motorbikes hounding the car.  There was great concern that these photographers would hound the two princes, William and Harry, and that measures would have to be taken to restrict their invasion of the princes’ private lives.

I had to confess that shortly before this accident, whilst discussing Diana with some friends, I had referred to her as ‘a witch’.    I believed that all this charity work was done to draw attention to herself, to out-do Charles and the Royal Family.    I believed she should have given all her love to her husband, and done this charity work as Queen Designate.   However, I now had to change my opinion in view of the vast amount of good for the sick and under-privileged.   It matters not if this work satisfied her own ego, if the humanitarian cause was benefited.

Within a week, another world figure, who had given forty years to charity, had united in death with Diana.   Mother Theresa died of a heart attack, aged 87.    During those years with Missionaries of Charity, Mother Theresa built a large movement with 3,000 members and tens of thousands of co-workers helping the poor and homeless in eighty countries.

It was claimed that Diana had been influenced by Mother Theresa in February, 1992, when she flew to Rome after the cancellation of a rendez-vous in Calcutta, due to the missionary’s sickness.   They met again the following September, in Kilburn, at the London headquarters of Mother Theresa’s Missionaries of Charity order.   Diana met her several more times, and sought support during the break-up of her marriage.   The nun paid tribute to Diana’s work to help the poor immediately after the Princess’s death.

During Mother Theresa’s lifetime, she became a symbol for human compassion throughout the world, and in 1979 she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.     Ten years later, she was a runner-up in a popularity poll, next to Margaret Thatcher.   At her passing, so close to Diana’s death, papers had headlines, ‘Two Dynamic Forces are United in Death’.  

Fortunately, there was yet another elderly lady, who had given most of her life to the humanitarian cause in various parts of the world, still taking an active part.    Here is an article I wrote about Sue Ryder, under the heading, ‘Helping Others’ for the Dorset, Hants and Wilts Spiritual Healers’ Association. 

Sue Ryder served in the highly secret Special Operation Executive (SOE) during WW2, co-ordinating the resistance in Nazi-occupied Europe.

This experience launched her after the war into relief work, among the sick, homeless and destitute.   A Foundation dedicated to this cause was formed by Sue Ryder in 1953.      This developed into a huge relief organisation, operating throughout the world, via Sue Ryder Homes, of which 22 out of a total of 70 are located in Great Britain.   Treatment is provided to alleviate 17 different types of sickness, together with caring and nursing for those with progressive disabilities.

The following words have been taken from the Charter of the Sue Ryder Foundation. 

“The Foundation is a living Memorial to all those millions who gave their lives during two World Wars in defence of human values, and to the countless others who are suffering and dying today, as a result of persecution.

Whatever you do and wherever you pray, think of their supreme sacrifice.

This is an international Foundation, which is devoted to the relief of suffering on the widest scale.   It seeks to render personal services to those in need and to give affection to those involved, regardless of age, race or creed, as part of the Family of Man.

The work is a summons to seek out and face the reality of human suffering and to do something about it.    It is a call to deny ourselves, and to give ourselves to those who have need of us, whatever they may be.

It is a challenge to all of us.

“For the cause that lacks assistance,

For the wrong that needs resistance,

For the future in the distance

And all the good that I can do.”

                        George Linnaeus Banks 

To fund these homes, the Sue Ryder Foundation depend largely on income derived from Sue Ryder’s shops supported by volunteers.   Further income is sought from varied support groups, particularly throughout the week during each November.    There is a small candle, the Sue Ryder Light and Hope.   This is a small candle, which friends can buy for a few pence and display in their windows as a sign of their support.   The following are some of the ways the Sue Ryder Foundation seeks your support at both local and national level. 

By prayer and asking others to pray

By joining or starting a local Support Group

By helping at your local Sue Ryder shop

By donating items to the shops for sale

By distributing the Light of Hope

By joining a Speakers Panel

By a Legacy 

Head Quarters

The Sue Ryder Foundation

Cavendish, Sudbury, Suffolk

CO10 8AY 

It was fitting that Mother Theresa, like Princess Diana, also received a State Funeral in India, where she devoted most of her time to her sick and poor.   It will be interesting to witness how the countries of the world will pay their tributes to Sue Ryder, when she is called by the Almighty to join the other Missionaries of Charity.

The three will have the satisfaction that their three foundations will continue to support the sick and under-privileged wherever they have a presence.

At the time of concluding my ‘It Happened To Me’ account, I had not envisaged that Harry’s fairly settled state would change at his Outram Road residence, so long as Sylvia was the housekeeper.    This was not so, for he had started to plead to come home, most weekends.    This, I did not feel, should happen, particularly when he gave his reason that he other residents would be there at the weekends.   He had never complained before about their presence.   He told me that a new resident had been temporarily placed with them.    Also, Sylvia was away on sick leave, with a dislocated arm and a Patsy had taken her place.   She was a kindly lady, as indeed all whom the Portsmouth Housing Trust engaged were very well chosen for tasks in their half-way homes.   Although he did not give either of these changes as reasons for his unsettled state, I felt one of them could be a cause of it.

Harry drew my attention to the fact that he had never been away for eleven years, during the whole of the time that he had been placed in the community at Outram Road.    He told me that he refused to go to a residence in the New Forest, with two other residents, because patients from St James’ would be there.   Then he asked, “Dad, can I go with you to Bournemouth, on one of your weekend Breaks?”   I was taken by surprise with this request, in view of his paranoid condition.    I explained that two hundred people would be milling around, and that there was little opportunity to eat on our own.   I also mentioned that the Midland Hotel coach we would be travelling on would be full, and that we would not necessarily sit together.

None of these reasons put him off the idea, which if it took place, would be a break-through in over-coming his phobia, which had plagued him all his life.    I immediately booked a single room for him and paid his deposit.

I regarded it as necessary to have a contact at Bournemouth, should Harry have one of his turns, making it a reason to see Harry’s key worker at Catherington House, where St James’ medical staff were based in Southsea, in support of patients housed in the community.   Whenever I asked Harry who his medical back-up staff were, he generally replied, “I don’t want anything to do with those people.”   This only applied since his Consultant, Dr Bale, had retired a year ago, after having charge of Harry for around fifteen years, who had won Harry’s confidence in him.

Although I was unable to speak to his key worker on calling at his office, due to his commitments, I did speak to him on the phone two days later.    This turned out to be a very useful conversation in that I was told that Dr Caesar was his consultant and that his name was Roger Batterbury, with Pat his understudy, both of whom had met Harry.      They were the ones I would have to contact, should I have a problem with Harry in Bournemouth.

I also wrote to the Chaplain of St James’ to visit Harry, with the object to get Harry to do another painting for his chapel, with the possibility that it would attract some form of activity away from his residence.     The Chaplain, Alan Walker, who had bought the painting ‘Sunset Over the Nile’ had moved to another living at Slough.

My letter received immediate attention, for on 8th September, at 1230, I answered the doorbell, where a small man wearing a dog collar asked if I was Harry’s father.   He had visited Harry at 9.30 am that morning, and had called to get his background.     I was able to show him several paintings of Harry that had recently been framed to be hung in Outram Road, after a £70,000 improvement had been carried out.    His visit had been organised by Catherington House, who had also sent Pat, with a friend from Mind to befriend Harry.    They called on Harry the same morning as the Chaplin, Eric Massey, said goodbye to Harry.

I was delighted that the key-worker had taken prompt action following my visit to see him and co-ordinating the Chaplain’s visit to see Harry.    The same evening of this visit to Harry, he phoned, telling me that Deborah and himself would be visiting me next Sunday morning, at 10 am, and that his friend from Mind would be taking him to the shops, during the week.    He spoke in a cheerful mood and was now looking forward to seeing his newly-found friend.    However, he did make it clear that he did not think he could make the short break at the Midland Hotel, Bournemouth with me.    This I could well understand, and although it would have been a big break-through, should it have taken place without a turn, it was too much to hope for.   

In applying to the hotel for a return of the £20 deposit, on compassionate grounds, I received an unexpected surprise when the Midland Hotel used the deposit to pay off the balance of my hotel bill, which was almost twice the amount of the deposit.    It is acts like this that keep your faith in mankind, not often met in commercial enterprise.

When Sunday morning arrived, I was full of apprehension as regards the arrival of Harry’s new lady friend, sent from Mind.    Would she arrive at all, and if so would she be an elderly, mothering, church-going sort of person?   A knock on the door at around 10 am soon provided the answer.    On the door-step standing were Harry, and what I thought was a young man, wearing light trousers, T-shirt and a peaked cap inscribed with ‘Deborah’.

Please do come in, and make yourselves at home.”    Harry, putting on a rare grin, said, “This is my friend, Deborah, who wished to meet you.”  I asked Harry to make some coffee for us, knowing he had a forté for this culinary act, which he could display for my visitor.

As we strolled around the garden, I stared hard at Deborah, to make sure I was talking to a lady, particularly when she came forth with, “I was swimming in Havant swimming baths at 2.30 this morning, in a swimming gala, taking part in twelve events.”   Now I took an even harder look at this youngish person, who could have been 20, 30 or possibly 40-ish, for this was her age.   She had burned herself out at work, and was not allowed to work again.   She was attending Highbury College, taking a course in Sports Science and had Stuart Olesker for the English subject at The Belmont, on Friday afternoons.   On hearing this, we were able to exchange our experiences on The Belmont centre, and our common tutor, and to refer to Harry’s art tutoring, which he received from Lin at the centre.

I showed several of Harry’s framed paintings to her, including the buffalo displayed in the living room, and her comment was the same as that of Lin, his tutor, “Brilliant”.   While having coffee, she revealed that she was good at meeting people, and had offered her services to Mind.   Harry was her first assignment that had been arranged through Roger Batterbury, Harry’s key worker.

Our dinner consisted of tinned soup, which Harry had brought with him, followed by Apple Banbury pie and custard.    A taxi arrived at midday, before I left to take sequence dancing lessons at the Bedhampton Social Hall, this being an additional form of exercise venture.

In saying farewell to them, Deborah promised to take Harry to the art display at Spice Island, Old Portsmouth, the following week.   This tom-boy of a young lady, whose life seemed devoted to sport, made it clear that she had other qualities, such as humanitarianism.  

I urged Harry to do another painting of an animal, since he had done another excellent painting of a buffalo.    I gave him a cutting from a brochure, of a horse tilling the soil on a farm.   I said to him, when I showed it to both of them, “Here, paint this scene.”  

He promptly replied,  “No, I cannot do it”.

Deborah immediately joined in, “Yes you can, you’ll do it for me, won’t you?”  Harry did not answer, for he was quite sure of what he felt, about what he is able to make into a good painting and what he is not.   I was pleased that Deborah was already getting Harry concentrating on his artistic ability and encouraging him by going to art exhibitions.   Could he also have found a Fairy Princess to cheer his life a little, and get him mixing in the community?

My sequence ball-room dancing lessons at the Bedhampton Community Hall, given by Sally and Nick, proved very instructive and a not-too-frightening experience.   Both were very capable instructors and gave short lessons to practice before starting the next movement.

I lacked a partner, but had Sally to partner me, after their demonstrations, which resulted in me receiving personal tuition from the instructress.    In a very short time, I was able to follow her in several dances, such as the ‘square tango’ the ‘rumba no. 1’, the ‘singy swing’, followed by ball-room dances which I had enjoyed years ago.    

All this session brought back memories of happier times, when I recalled that the last dance I had with Gladys had been at the Civil Service Club in Copnor.   This was where Sally and Nick held their weekly Saturday night dance, making my loss all the more poignant, after they invited me to join their happy group of dancers.

I felt that I had inherited my father’s calling for music that he exhibited as an organist.   I enjoyed just sitting, watching the dancers and listening to the old tunes, such as ‘Sally in our Alley’, a favourite of Gracie Fields.   This also applied when attending church, and the old favourite hymns were sung, for I was quite happy to sit and listen to them, such as “Abide with Me”.   This feature, I suppose, must be typical of my age-group, reaching the twilight of their life, with the music recalling some past occasion.

Being very disheartened with the outdoor bowling season, owing to the poor state of the green, and to some extent to the small cliques that had formed, I had decided to develop my former pastime of dancing, which of course, would be dependant on the progress I made at these Sunday afternoon sessions, and also subject to my dancing instructor’s progress.

Although my bowling interest was on the wane, Jack Brown, President of the newly-formed during 1997 Emsworth Bowling Club, invited me to present the All-Change Drive Cup.    Ernie Blake, a former bowls player, now 88 years of age, still playing bridge at The Elms, was also invited.   He had donated a set of woods, whilst I had donated a set of movement drive cards.

Ernie MacDonald had run the drive each Friday afternoon and it had been a great success bringing together the new members of their club.    This honour, of presenting the cup to the highest scorer of the season was a great boost to my ego, having had a disappointing season, with my own bowling club.   Jack asked me to say a few words during the presentation of the cup, which I was happy to do, since Jack had kept me informed with the progress of his club development since its inception.   

Here is my address to founder members, present at the end of the their drive, on a most glorious sunny afternoon: 

“Mr President and founder members of the Emsworth Bowling Club.    Ernie and I thank you for honouring us with this invitation to join you on this presentation occasion.

We first of all congratulate you on the successful launch of the Emsworth Bowling Club during 1997.

I was privileged to sight the document several years ago, which Jack submitted to Havant Borough Council, putting a case for the provision of a bowling facility to meet the needs of Emsworth bowling fraternity.

Later Jack attracted several members from other local clubs, who were talented both in bowling and management skills to form a steering committee to meet the Town Council representatives.   All you founder members are now both witnesses and party to their endeavours, resulting in your club having an excellent ‘esprit de corps’ to take your club well into the next millennium.    

It may sound amusing that a local bowler should go all the way to the banks of the Adriatic, in the former Yugoslavia, to devise a drive using movement cards, to permit any variable even number between 12 and 48 to take part without any pre-planning.  I congratulate your club in adopting this drive as a weekly Friday club event, and arranging this fine, sunny day for this presentation ceremony.   Over to you, Jack.” 

A week later, I was taken aback when at the Emsworth Bridge Club, Patrick Keogh said to me, “I did not know you were a local celebrity.”    I responded, anxious to learn of my fame, “Tell me more.”   

“I was a bowler at the Emsworth Bowls club at the presentation event, where you gave your excellent address.”   This unexpected comment from Patrick, which was another boost to my ego so that I found it hard to hide my pride, so I added, “Yes, and my fees for being a guest speaker are very high.”   Patrick was relatively new to the Emsworth Bridge Club, and during the evening I learned from him that he was a Mancunian, which enabled us to exchange our early days in our common birth place.   It was a charity bridge drive that we were taking part in, which raised over £260 for the British Heart Foundation.

During September 1997, the period of the Wake of the Epilogue, yet another momentous event was witnessed, not unlike the demise of the British Empire, when the handing back of Hong Kong took place.   The Labour Party had promised in their election manifesto during 1997 that Wales and Scotland should hold a referendum to allow the Welsh and Scottish people  to vote for their own assembly.    The Labour, having won the election and coming into power for the first time in 18 years, now carried out their promise to hold these referendums.   To many British people, this action of devolution voting was akin to the dismantling of the United Kingdom, if their assemblies removed their legislative powers from Parliament.   Many of the Welsh and Scottish people had no desire to be made separate from their English counterparts in government, as the referendums’ results were to indicated, by the high per cent who did not vote.

Those who voted north of the border, voted 74.3% in favour of their own assembly, with almost 40% abstaining, whilst in Wales only a majority, 0.3% voted in favour, with only 50.1% of their population voting.   Practically all of the Welsh border counties voting against having a separate assembly, which reflected the need to retain Parliament as the single law-making power for Britain.   This policy of devolution was, in my opinion, like putting the clock back to the days when they last had their separate assemblies, this, for Wales was 600 years ago.

It was thought by many that the purpose of having devolution in Labour’s manifesto was a vote-winning exercise.    The result has yet to be proved, for the wisdom in introducing these assemblies and many English people are already complaining about having these other clans across the borders taking part in the affairs of England’s Parliament.    It is early days to forecast the effects of the seeds of devolution sown by the Labour Government, but the British people have no doubt that their culture has been enriched by the dialect of different countries and customs making up the British Isles.    It has been so sad to know that a similar country, Yugoslavia, should have been torn apart by its differing ethnic population.

At the end of the Wake behind the Epilogue, a month in time, and trailing very much like a comet’s tail in the sky, a few more seeds have been sown.   Who can foretell the outcome of Harry’s friendship with Deborah from Mind?    Who can forecast where his Dad’s new sequence dancing interest will lead, or how he will cope with the new word processor Amstrad 8256 with its visual display and printout, that Joy turned down when Ted brought it along to the house, to give her to record her CV.    It did not meet her requirements, whereupon Ted offered me the unit and suggested I use it to reproduce ‘It Happened To Me’.   He refused to accept any payment for the Amstrad word processor.    All he required from me was tuition in learning the ‘Club Precision Bridge System’ that Alan Wagg and myself used at Emsworth Bridge Club.    This was indeed a small price to pay for this generous gift, which I have yet to tame, and Stuart Olesker suggested I adopt some time.

There is no more wake, as this typewriter ceases to record the life of Alan Rayment, only his thoughts that he can offer as his tail-piece, taken from Paul Booth’s hymn.

This has been true in the past, the present and will be so for ever more, including a Fairy Princess like Pat, if one is so lucky! 

Who put the colour in the rainbow?

Who put the salt into the sea?

Who put the cold into the snowflake?

Who made you and me?

Who put the hump upon the camel?

Who put the neck on the giraffe?

Who put the tail upon the monkey?

Who made the hyena laugh?

Who made the whale and snails and quails?

Who made the hogs and dogs and frogs?

Who made the bats and rats and cats?

Who made everything?


Who put the gold into the sunshine?

Who put the sparkle in the stars?

Who put the silver in the moonlight?

Who made Earth and Mars?

Who put scent into the roses?

Who taught the honey bees to dance?

Who put the tree inside the acorn?

It surely can’t be chance!

Who made seas and leaves and trees?

Who made snow and winds that blow?

Who made streams and rivers flow?

God made all of these. 

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© Alan Rayment 1998
Last revised: February 04, 2001