Gordon ‘Gig’ Delph was an old friend well remembered. I knew him from my tennis-playing days.
When a good friend disappears, the world stops for a moment and then goes on. But in that moment we think so many things – the times one had, sweet days gone by, images of friendship printed on the mind. For a moment, also, his sudden silence tells us what shadows we all are and what shadows we pursue. The shadows are as numerous and as fleeting as on a moonlit night – power and the fruits and fears of power, deeds of great renown, fame and fortune, possessions that soon grow dry as dust, the domination of people and self-regarding, tall ambition. All shadows, every one of them, disappear like a morning mist. Gig pursued his shadows too, as all men do, but his were others shadows. His shadows were the love of family and friends, laughter and making life seem good, the pleasant passing of a holiday with talk and humour and old memories and a steam or two, kindness and a hospitable home, a glorying in children. These are passing shadows too, but shadows of a kinder day than those which darken most men’s lives.