LOOKING towards the future — an aspect of my rather chequered life and career that I have rarely been able to master — I have made a request to my wife, Ann, and my family which I do hope is not acted upon for many a long day; I have listed the hymns which I would like sung at my funeral.

Morbid? Yes, to some extent, yet it is probably helpful to them to know the music which will accompany me on my final journey on a trolley down the aisle. After all, a death triggers so many problems, issues, legal requirements, demands of those close to the deceased, it can only be of help to them to put in place a request as to the singing, perhaps readings and so on, which might be used at this, the deceased’s final public appearance.

What people might say regarding the departed cannot, of course, be regulated or even influenced; nor should it be, though most folk exercise generosity of spirit (an immense amount in some instances) and speak kindly of some whose leaving of the world is not widely regretted.

Hymns though — that is another matter. Whether or not the departed is now in another world gazing down (or up) on this one is, possibly, the greatest of unknowns, but if he or she is, it could be of some comfort that the service is punctuated by the singing of that which, in life, they would have appreciated most. For me, being a man of conservative, traditional tastes and habits, my desire is that the organ’s rich tones envelop the congregation (entry being free, hopefully not too sparse), with the vibrant melody of time honoured hymns — and such are what they will be.

Not for me a final journey made to the likes of Elvis extolling the virtues of a Jailhouse Rock or even the sublime tones of the great Sinatra (although I would certainly have him with me on the Desert Island). To start with, there would be Bread of Heaven — a rousing anthem which during a rather dissolute youth, I would sing along with others, discordantly in local hostelries late of a Saturday night when liquor was in and sense was out. This will be followed by To Be A Pilgrim — for two reasons; firstly, it is one I like, secondly it has strong connotations regarding my lifetime obsession with a football club based in Plymouth; indeed, one line gives prominence in powerful form to the character building aspect of following Argyle — He Who Would Valiant Be, Gainst All Disaster; there have been so many of those over the years though few, mercifully, at present.

Definitely included is the moving, mind concentrating hymn, essential to cup finals and funerals, Abide With Me. Written in the 19th century by the terminally ill Rector of Brixham, the Reverend Lyte, it is so very difficult to sing the words without moisture glazing the eyes.

Yet, ultimately, it is an anthem of defiance, of positivity — even of ultimate triumph, though this could only, possibly, be found in the next world. Such, at present, is my list to be played and sung at my demise; it could change a touch over a period of time- if time there be - but not radically. Possibly there would need to be one or two extras in reserve, to come off the ‘subs’ bench’ if, say, the organist mislaid the music to any of the others. That evocative psalm The Lord Is My Shepherd would be a contender as would be that stirring hymn, Onward Christian Soldiers, the singing of which exercises the lungs and lifts the spirit; also, it was written, in the late 19th century, by a good Devon man, the highly accomplished Reverend Sabine Baring Gould, rector of Lewtrenchard — assuredly a ‘man of many parts’.

A traditional funeral favourite is The Day Thou Gavest Lord Has Ended but it does not appeal to me; perhaps I prefer songs of praise to be a touch more spirited and powerful even though services for the deceased are times of sadness and mourning.

One that does appeal is The Battle Hymn of the Republic which contains lines which ever linger in the memory, none better than ‘He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored’; certainly mind concentrating words - and it has a cracking tune. It will not be used though - it would not rest easy on the conscience of this patriotic Briton. The work of one American would be employed, however, the march Semper Fidelis, written by John Philip Sousa. Since time immemorial, Plymouth Argyle have taken to the pitch to this pulsating tune; with me, it would be played at the end of the funeral service — as I was leaving the field of play.