RIP, Postmaster Pat

Sadly, while we were away in Cheltenham, I read that our local postmaster had died.

He was only 59.

Ten years ago his family bought the village shop - which includes a post office - and breathed new life into it.

Before that it was poorly lit and generally unwelcoming and there was little to buy other than the bare essentials, if that.

Today it’s a proper convenience store and if you were so inclined (or without a car) you could probably survive without shopping anywhere else.

Pat, as he was called (his real name was Parmjit), was quite a character. If you had a parcel to post it wasn’t unusual to get chatting while he hunted for the relevant stamps.

Likewise, during one of his frequent cigarette breaks, he would stand outside talking to customers, many of whom he knew by name.

Even if I was only walking past with the dog he would give me a cheery wave. (He remembered the name of our dog too.)

Although he and his family lived over 20 miles away many villagers obviously saw him as one of their own, hence the large number of tributes that have been posted online.

On Wednesday his coffin passed through the village and had I not been away I would have been in the High Street paying my respects.

To be honest - given the advertised time of 8.10am - I did wonder how many people would turn up.

Photographs posted online however show a large number of people outside the shop and on both sides of the road, a fitting tribute to a lovely man.

RIP, Pat.