The Yomp For Steve

Saturday, 18 May 2013 saw the Yomp For Steve*. A group of Steve Sharpe's friends have gotten together and for the past 2 years, they've walked from one of his favourite places at Titchfield Haven to Shore Leave Haslar, a walk of about 8 miles along the Hampshire coastline.


The assembled throng, included friends from Gosport with whom he grew up, ex field gunners, fellow Commandos, a lab tech, an RAF air traffic controller, an ex naval Medical Assistant and assorted spouses and dogs. And last but not least, his lifelong friend Brian (or Bj).

We chat, some bring their dogs, we amble, some stop for a beer, some stop for a New Forest ice cream (I recommend the rhubarb crumble and custard one) and others stop for a cuppa. We each chip in £10 and all the proceeds go to Shore Leave Haslar. This year we raised £280. They in their turn provide us with a simple but tasty barbecue, drinks and cake in the wonderful gardens they've recovered.

Last year Steve's mum and dad were there to see us off, but earlier this year Steve's mum died suddenly and his dad needed his time to grieve and to get over her death and so didn't attend.There was one person missing and I hope she can join us next year after all that she has gone through, and continues to do so.

You, too, should join us next year.

*Yomp has two meanings in the Royal Navy it can (and used to mean) to eat, but once the Royal Marines landed on the Falkland Islands in 1982, it's other meaning took precedence and entered popular culture. It means to walk across country, usually burdened with a small house, no sleep, and a pair of underpants that passeth all understanding.

The Green Man

Today was a good day. Many, many people came to St Luke's Church, at the Royal Hospital Haslar to say goodbye to Steve Sharpe. His family, friends, field-gunners, Commandos, Medical Branch staff and combinations of all those were there. There are few people who were as friendly or as generous, and this was reflected in his wife's tribute.

In a way, it was a good day for Steve.. The demons - let's not mess around - the PTSD that had been affecting him as a result of the action on RFA Sir Galahad in 1982, and later an incident in Norway, and had caused him to take his own life, can never affect him again.. In that way it's good and we can now associate Steve with the Green Man - not the green of the Commandos, but a symbol of rebirth, and believe he's happily bimbling around some wood or forest. But without a 'house' on his back and a PRR.

This was the closing poem - a favourite of his mum-in-law:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft star-shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

Moving on.....

Stephen

CHILLY!!
He’d shout, when we’d meet
(And that wasn’t often)
There was such a grin on his face
And a welcome in his paw

We first met in that cold, grim place
And worked so hard to match the pace
Then. at night,  the bus to Plympton
To eat egg and chips and dhobi our denims

Later, he’d succeed and I would fail
And, after 30 miles, I'd smile from the back
As he donned the green felt
And stumbled away to faint

I saw him once (at the ferry).
We chatted, we parted.
I saw his note
And we chatted a lot more
Later, I saw him.
(I took Starbucks muffins)
We hugged as old friends do.

CHILLY!!
He yelled when we met
(And that was in Plymouth)
There was such a grin on his face
And, obviously, a pint in his paw.

Much later, came the message, the call.