In my head, I am a dancer. I can complete a spin into a perfect Arabesque, the standing leg bent at the knee, in a plié, taking an attitude like a spiv in a cocked trilby, and the trailing one straight as a cane. I can dart joyously across a festival stage and, close to the wings, drop victoriously to my knees, then leap to my feet on the last beat of the bar and moonwalk back to centre-stage, and for that moment, that magnificent nanosecond in a lifetime of movement, this Ballerino, this danseur, is King of the world, master of the rhythm and utterly fulfilled.
In my head, I am the running man. No hill is too steep, no climb too rough for these feet to feel defeated; onward and upward, all the way: King of the hill, master of the walk.
In my head, I cycle the country lanes alone, solitary, capturing the breath of songbirds in one hand waving free. And, here, I shift gear to tackle the downhill sweep at the bottom of Seven Forms Hill, taking it without halting, fearless as I pick up speed and rock and roll on: King of the road, master of the cycle.
In my head, I can walk well on uneven ground, rush for the check-in at airports, fix the slipped roof slate up a 20 foot ladder and carry my stones like Adonis.
In my heart, I have faith, and that’s good enough really.
When we buried dear Roy Filby last week, I understood something so basic (a truism that I had missed all my life so far) that I wrote it to my son, probably for therapeutic relief: our life-long Church Warden had gone with a fatal, completely unexpected heart-attack, and the Norman parish church was heaving with good, sincere country people who knew him well (some for all of his 80 years) and who respected the gentleman (Mr Filby to many even to his dying day). He was a plain man (probably didn’t have a passport even); kind and humorous, and dedicated to the duty of seeing to others’ needs. There will be a big hole around here for some time to come, particularly in church. To be so unassuming and modest and yet so immensely valued: how Charismatic is that? And that is the revelation that came to me that day.
In my head, I am filled with bravura moves and grand gestures which I am not equipped, physically, to execute. In my heart, I realise now it isn’t important, that small inadequacy.
written by Norma Pocher , July 09, 2012
You are a sweet man.
written by Stella Day , July 09, 2012
Lovely piece Steve.
Isn't it incredible how long we struggle in life to find out what matters and what doesn't? The world is dotted with Roy Filbys and it would be easy for me to assume from what you have written that he'd never known in life just how popular and well respected he was.
Blessed are the meek indeed.
written by Cheri Ives , July 10, 2012
So beautifully written, Steve.
written by Deborah , July 10, 2012
Bravo! Halleluiah, Amen.
written by Pat Firth , July 10, 2012
He is richest who is content with the least, for content is the wealth of nature.
It is always fulfilling to meet a high achieving person without ego. That is whom we should all aspire to be.
A beautifully written piece Steve.
written by PaulineW , July 10, 2012
Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication......x
written by jenny rees , July 10, 2012
Steve, you are a poet indeed - to be able to write from the heart, stir other peoples' emotions and be unafraid to bare your soul is a gift. I have no "faith" as such but your words are inspiring and make others without such a thing glad.
written by kevin clarke , July 11, 2012
Would love someone to write something like that about me when my time is up x
written by jo humphries , July 11, 2012
Very special words.
Big hug x
written by paulng57 , July 12, 2012
As a life long SH fan. I am now 55 years young, and was born with spina bifida. For 38 years (and a couple of operations) I could do many things as steve suggests here. Ride a bike, climb a ladder, dance and even play football to a fashion. As i have got older i have lost movement of my left foot, muscles in my legs and mobility in general. But as Steve implies things could of been a lot worse. With the aid of a leg splint and a walking stick, I carry on as normal. I hope this does not sound self indulgent it's just that i could relate to Steve's post. I will be at the Symphony hall in November (being a Brummie, nice and easy to get to). Look out for the smiling man with the stick. It will be a great night.
written by Jean Grima , July 12, 2012
This made me cry. I love to hear people talk about their faith, when so often I hold back on talking about my own. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this sad event.
Also, I'm a church warden. I didn't know Roy Filby but get the feeling that if I can do a 10th of what he has achieved or if I could be even a tiny bit as selfless as Steve suggests he was, I would be a better person. He sounds like a great man of faith and love. I am sorry for your loss Steve and for others in the parish who are grieving. God bless you all.
written by Reggie Cornwall , July 24, 2012
Still got it, Steve. This is a very moving piece, written with a true writer's eye, ear and sincerity.
written by Angela Ross , August 06, 2012
Very touching ,made me cry too. Have just seen you and your band at Wickham Hants last Friday 3rd August . What a wonderful show .I have always loved your better known songs not owning any albums but never expected such superb quality . Thank you so much will stay as a treasured memory. Hope to see you again.