Ifor's funeral was an extremely emotive affair. Indian Tim said some very heartfelt words about the wee man, There was a big turn out of bikes, both local and from far afield that packed the small street in Pont Henri in the blazing afternoon soon. Lots of old familiar faces of the TC and friends.
Then we all rode in convey behind the hearse to the crematorium. The hearse and family car pulled up, and all the bikes streamed in. Probably a hundred I reckon. As the hearse drove in everybody revved their engines enthusiastically to say goodbye.
Unfortunately. I couldnt stay for the do afterwards, or the camping at Mark and Hillary's as I wasn't feeling up to it. And Ifor had the last laugh, as as I headed for home, a horrible rattle started on the bike. The revving the nutts off it at the crematorium had shaken my exhaust headers loose! The hundred odd mile blast across Wales on empty roads, in the warm evening sun, seemed an apt finish to the day.
I stopped on the way home at the Red Lion for a curry and a pint and sat in the evening sun quietly reflecting on the man that was Ifor.
