Dad had kept the order of service for his friend David Munro (died 2016) in a folder in his lounge - Rich and I wondered if he was sending us a message. This is a poem from that service, appropriate for Dad too: The Golf Course in the Sky As eighteen flags flew at half mast, And glasses were soberly raised high, The latest member was having a ball At the golf course in the sky. Freed from the gravity of the situation, The first tee shot soared through space Bringing a wondrous, beaming smile To a kind, down to earth face. Surrounded by old club friends Once thought never to be seen again, The infinity course beckoned ahead; Eighteen holes were for mere mortal men. Michael Ashby