laugh, a good red, and a not-so-good one if need be. But he didn't enjoy the best of health in recent years although, whenever he was asked how he was going, he was always "OK".

What I didn't know until then was how Bruce's character had touched so many other people's lives in a similar way. I reflected on how Bruce was so eager to assist me in Arfur's rebirth; I reflected on that time after he'd had his cataracts removed he decided that the Riley really needed a bit of "tidying up" which he'd not been able to see until then. 

I cried. I wasn't alone.

And so, we come to the final Chapter in Bruce's Storybook; a story the celebrant said was one of his favourites.

It goes a lot like this.

A group of Riley folk had gathered at Centennial Park for the funeral of one of their good friends. As they walked across the car park toward the Heysen Chapel they noticed another group of what appeared to be pall-bearers carrying a coffin on their shoulders heading down the hill.  An hour and a half later, they emerged from the funeral and noticed the same group walking through the grounds heading, this time, up the hill towards Goodwood Road.They looked at each other quizzically. One asked,"What do you reckon that lot's up to?" The joker amongst the group said, "I think they've lost the plot!"

I won't forget those chats on the front verandah.   


Leigh Johnson