I went to the funeral of a colleague today who was a fellow guide at the Royal Navy Submarine Museum. Dave Sullivan was a submariner who had been a guide and steward at the museum since its opening in 1980. He was someone who was always popular with his fellow guides, with the visitors and with the younger front of house staff. Latterly, he only worked on Sundays, and he was always there with a smile, a welcome and, often, a joke. He was full of stories from his time in the Royal Navy, and later as a technical civil servant. Being a man of his time, he would often use language that would be considered unacceptable by today's standards. He would refer to people as 'darkies' or as 'queers' but never in malice and he would always correct himself, aware of modern sensitivities.
Dave often complained of a bad back and when he finally consulted a doctor, he was diagnosed with cancer. From that point he gave up guiding, temporarily he hoped but he never did return to his 'second wife' as Margie, his wife, referred to the Submarine Museum. Somehow, Sunday mornings always seemed to be missing something after his enforced absence. I would find myself looking for him half way through the day.
His popularity was demonstrated today by the fact that the crematorium at Havant was full with many friends and family sat in the pews and a large number of ex-submariner colleagues from the Association and the museum stood around the sides. The hardest thing to see today was the grief and tears on the faces of his grandchildren.
I, as were many others, was genuinely saddened to hear of the death of Dave, and much more so than another who had died last year. This man was a bully and a braggart, the antithesis of Dave, but because one should not speak ill of the dead, no-one did but I know he wasn't missed by many.
Dave must have, at some point, been greatly struck by the piece 'Desiderata'. He always carried copies of it in his bag and would offer them to friends and colleagues, particularly those younger members around them.
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy
I find that I have come to find some peace in the quiet introspection that comes with marking the Armistice at the 11th hour. There is no build up (other than keeping an eye on the clock or radio in preparation). There is no religion nor any need for it. No pomp. It is a pure act of remembrance, a solitary commemoration. And for 2 minutes it's possible to think of anything - ice cream, cars, blisters - but thoughts go back to the hundreds of thousands who died a century ago, the years in between, and those who die today even though their physical war ended 20, 30 years ago. 
the noise, (there's always noise whether it's in the air, on the land, or in and under the sea) in the depths of any war. and how the fear would feel. All the time, aware of a stillness even though I may hear traffic and everyday noises.
