Just some fragments from the day of his funeral as they came to mind.
Paul's coffin surprised me - somehow I expected it to made of cardboard or wicker in keeping with the sustainability theme - but a true Acorn fan even beyond death, Paul was buried in a stout oak box.
I followed the coffin into the woods, talking to the solicitor who is getting to grips with Paul's privately managed Internet affairs. He pointed out the woodland floor covered in Dog's Mercury, a rare plant he said, which I subsequently failed to find in in Roger Darlington's beautiful wild flower site [link]
The CIA security sign on the wall of the Rising Sun at Cranfield where we had lunch with fellow MUG members; reading the hardcopy condolences book produced by Rob Kendrick; then getting lost on the short journey to the Sustainabilty Centre and driving too fast around single track roads trying not to be late.
Keith Dunlop and Louie sitting cross-legged on a wooden shelf throughout the length of the celebration service tributes. I am surprised they could stand up still had the use of their legs afterwoods.
The "croppies", certainly no odder in their own way than we niche OS supporters, looked and sounded surprisingly normal; and their voices, to a Pompey born and bred exile listening to the Southern "R"s and "ows" all around was like coming home. Then there was learning how to pronounce Paul's second name - not V-ee-gay, but V-igh-gay.
The little child with blonde hair who persuaded three MUGs to come and admire a ring of stones and pile of twigs laid for a fire close to the edge of the wood.
Hugging Paul's sister and collecting two potted acorns. Curiously, hearing Fran speak took away some of the feeling of loss. It was as if he had not altogether gone.
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
Paul wanted to play the guitar solo from "Comfortably Numb" but he was more of a keyboard player than a guitarist.
Shine on you crazy diamond - but I really, really wish you were still here.