As we were growing up, Stan would talk to us about all sorts of things - history, politics, literature……. He tried to inspire in us a love of the things he loved.

On a Sunday lunchtime he would sometimes read to the whole family. We rushed to fetch pudding so that we had time to hear the next chapter in one of the selected books. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist, Call of the Wild, White Fang. Jack London was always a favourite.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Coleridge may well be familiar to many of you here, yet to me it evokes a memory of Stan striding boldly across the sitting room floor, performing the piece, pointing and grabbing our attention as though the scene were taking place before our very eyes. And we always joined in, in unison -

“Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.”

Indeed, Stan loved the idea of us learning some of his favourite pieces by heart. I promised to learn the Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning for several of Stan’s birthdays. I would of course recite it now in full if we but only had the time.

However, today I thought it fitting to choose a poem which reflects Stan’s love of nature, and love of the Lake District. It's a poem by William Wordsworth and as I say the words, I can see Stan smiling, encouraging us all to enjoy.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.