We just come in from a funeral.  A friend’s husband died suddenly whilst enjoying a walking holiday with a group of people from their village, just two months after his 65th birthday.

We knew Martin well.  We’ve spent time in his company and over the years learned a little about him from the conversations we had here and there.  We knew he was a gifted linguist, that he loved his vintage sports cars and had gone to the same school as Admiral Lord Nelson.  But sitting listening to his cousin speak so eloquently in a packed country church this afternoon, we realised we didn’t know the half of it.

I know, we all have hidden depths and secret lives, but as we walked from the church I could only think about the conversation I would have loved to have had with Martin, had I but realised.  Sad to think that I won’t get the chance.