Last of the regulars

MY GOOD LADY wakes me by throwing herself into my arms and telling me with a sob that we've another funeral to go to.

Little B was found dead in his bed after MGL raised the alarm; he hadn't appeared at the Pub yesterday, and failed to answer his phone this morning.

The thing of it is, though, Little B was one of the mainstays of the Geriatrics' Corner; he was there every afternoon and every evening, drinking his halves of mild - a quiet, lonely man of tidy habits and gentle demeanour.

The one word that describes him best, I think, is neat: he was neat in his dress, neat in all his doings and arrangements. Neatness meant everything to him.

He was the last of the Geratrics' Corner's regulars - the rest of us just go, now, maybe a couple of times a week.

Little B was our friend, and our lives will be emptier for his absence.