My loyal reader, poor thing, has read the odd thing or two about Ben Hiscox, the Stoke Gifford legend who left us a year ago yesterday. It has been a very long year, which passed like the blink of an eye, if you know what I mean (because I don’t). Yesterday, as advertised, the Beaufort Arms, the spiritual home of our village, held an evening to remember Ben. And it was an evening to remember for all the right reasons.
Of course the day was sunny, of course the pub was packed.The pub was packed with Ben’s close family and most of his friends. Photos of Ben and his friends were shown on a continuous loop on a big screen. Yes, it was sad, but there were a lot more, “Omigod: I remember that day. It was hilarious” comments than there had been in a year. There were tears, of course there were tears, always will be, but there were a lot of laughs too.
Thanks to Ben’s mum Gloria, two Bristol Rovers players attended. She had bumped into Stuart Sinclair in Tesco and told him about the event two weeks previously and he said he would do his best to come along and he was as good as his word. And he brought with him the skipper Mark McChrystal. If you are looking for some gossip, scandal and so on, look elsewhere. Both were unfailingly polite, respectful, funny and totally professional. Not a drop of alcohol passed their lips. When they were asked about the Rovers, they were positive, proud to be playing for the club and they were in awe of the fans.
Ben’s dad made his usual brilliant speech, partly from the heart, partly from the head. No notes, no prepared speech – how does he do it? And we all raised a glass – many glasses in my case – to ‘Our Ben’.
In my usual modest style, I claim the title ‘Our Ben’ when Clive and I were talking about the book he is writing about his son. He is our Ben. He belongs to his family first and foremost, but he also belongs to us.
Whether or not you believe in the spirit world, and I don’t, I do believe in the spirit of man and the spirit of humanity. I believe that the spirit of Ben Hiscox and the waves of love that followed him around have remained in our community. He has passed all that love down to everyone else. I really believe that’s true.
It’s almost certainly a coincidence that the sun always shines for Ben, but I am more than happy to set aside reality to believe forever that it does. When I see the sun shine by the village green, above his bench and over his tree, I always think of that man. And it makes me smile, just like Ben always made me smile.
As night fell, the funniest thing happened. The pub emptied to watch lanterns being lit and floating into the skies above. And some of them drifted away, taking flight above our village. Then something went slightly wrong. One lantern lifted off and got stuck on Ben’s tree and seemingly threatened to burn it into a frazzle, until someone bravely dragged it off. Of course we laughed because we all knew who would have laughed more than anyone: Our Ben.
The anniversary date was something everyone needed to get out of the way and now we have. We are beginning to remember and embrace the sheer fun of the man as well as mourn his loss.
We managed to celebrate his life in the way his family wanted. The evening couldn’t have gone better.
