“Take me to some high place of heather, rock and ling……”

Another longish trip in October was to the resort of Méribel in the Alps. Thankfully too early for snow, although it was well in evidence on Mont Blanc and the surrounding peaks. Here we were to inter the ashes of a British man in the garden he loved and cherished. The day was poignant rather than sad, the words of Ewan MacColl seemed particularly appropriate…..

Take me to some high place of heather, rock, and ling,

Scatter my dust and ashes, feed me to the wind,

So that I will be part of all you see, the air you are breathing –

I’ll be part of the curlew’s cry and the soaring hawk,

The blue milkwort and the sundew hung with diamonds;

I’ll be riding the gentle wind that blows through your hair,

Reminding you how we shared in the joy of living.