Thursday 10th February (The Star)

Mr. Kite looked out of his bedroom window and thought; whatever was outside he just thought. Mr. Kite thought about that icy cold frosty Sunday morning twenty six years ago when a star was born. The star grew bigger and brighter from birth. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every year the star developed into a warm, friendly, witty, humorous, fun loving and inspirational young man of more than six feet. The star had charisma and a wicked laugh. He always looked at the positive aspects of life and 'everyone was his friend'.

As the star developed he wrote great lines in his diary; nanny was too grumpy to die. He drew competent sketches of his favourite cat 'girly'. He wrote comical songs such as ' duffest'. His guitar playing was second to his older brother who is second to Mark Knopfler. The star had many friends and to those who never saw the star shine they will never know what they missed. Wherever he went, whatever he did, whatever he said this charismatic star made an impression.

Sadly one sunny and warm July Sunday at noon the star was extinguished near Church Stretton. Within seconds the shining light of many peoples life faded leaving the world a darker place and sadder. But his memory lives with all who knew him. People recall his words, his actions, his life and laugh; and cry. Some people think of him every day; how could they forget?

Today Mr. Kite and other are going to the special grave and place flowers on it and remember him. The red roses and yellow tulips were on display in his bedroom the previous night. So at ten thirty Mr. Kite packed flowers and greenery from the garden and drove to the Church of Saint Gregory the Great Morville. Mr. Kite noticed the large herd of Mute Swans near the Cound Inn but did not stop to look for the Whoopers.

Morville was in gloom today with the low cloud and damp air. But the air was still and Mr. Kite listened to a Song Thrush and a Robin as he walked up the avenue of trees with Snowdrops circling the trunk. Nothing was said on the walk to the special grave. The environment was sombre but atmospheric. Today the field by the church did not have the usual cattle but the grass was green, the mole hills brown and crumbly and the earth smelt of earth.

The entourage walked past the church to the raised mound near the perimeter hedge. Some kind person had placed a red flower on the grave. Greenery from the surroundings still decorated the special grave with ivy, mistletoe and holly straddling the mound. At the head of the grave a pure white clump of Snowdrops grew. After one hour the special grave reflected the special person who lay beneath the earth. Red and yellow flowers brightened the area. Green garlands of ivy were sown along the boundary. Thoughts were thought; memories remembered of the star. The grave had had many visitors and many different days. Friends had laid flowers on Christmas Day and a very attractive goddess came from South Korea to place her contribution of flowers.

Mr. Kite thought if one has to be buried few places are better. It is tranquil; it is natural and it is dignified. Now life is strange and not without coincidence. Next Tuesday there is to be another burial in the grounds of Saint Gregory the Great's Church. This lady will be buried next to the special grave; she too ended her life; and she is a family member; his second cousin. As the Moody Blues wrote 'Isn't life strange'.

Mr. Kite went home for a tipple of Greene King Abbot Ale. Cheers and lets drink to a star who shone brightly, lightened our lives and left us with a great sense of loss.