Ben’s bench, winter 2016

Every day, at least twice a day, I pass Ben Hiscox’s bench and tree. Following Ben’s tragic passing last year, a bench was placed on the village green, in the heart of Stoke Gifford, with a tree behind it. If the point of both tributes were to remember Ben, it’s worked.

Leaving the Beaufort Arms last night, I noted that, not for the first time, Ben’s tree was illuminated by lights. On a clear, cold evening, there was more than a hint of calm about the place, as if to say everything is fine, Ben is resting in peace.

I love the bench. I’ve sat there a few times, just thinking about things, reminiscing about Ben, sometimes other aspects of life and death and the universe at large. I feel very much part of the village these days, having moved here some 24 years ago. My partner and I feel that we are adopted villagers, our sons, for better or for worse, are villagers by birth. You can take the boy out of the village, but you can’t take the village out of the boy. Isn’t that right, Ben?

It is not just me who sits on the bench, albeit not so much in the winter time, although a lot of people do. I have driven through the village late at night, sometimes in the early hours, and groups of young people have been sitting on the seat, drinking a tinny, perhaps, and puffing on a cigarette. Remind you of anyone? Oh yes. Ben Hiscox. He’d approve, all right. He certainly wouldn’t be telling them off. He’d be cadging a fag!

I have seen tributes to people, especially benches, for many years. You know the sort of thing. “To Reg Scoggis 1924 to 2010. He loved this view.” And I always got it. I would then look at the view and see why ‘Reg’ loved it so much and why the bench was a perfect tribute. Ben’s bench overlooks the pub, the beating heart of Stoke Gifford where, so many times, I would bump into Ben and his legion of friends. Smiles and laughter to light up the world, no egos that couldn’t be pricked by that lot. And so it goes today.

The tree, behind the bench, usually adorned with beautiful flowers, resting above Ben’s ashes which are buried in the ground, represents the continuation of life, keeps alive the memory and sustains the spirit of Ben Hiscox. Such a simple idea, but usually the simplest ideas are the best. It both warms and saddens my heart that either of them are there at all, but the decision to have the bench and the tree in the very heart of the village was as good a choice and as fitting a tribute to a truly great man as can have been imagined.

Ben will live forever in our hearts and minds, through our memories, our love and the tributes on the village green.