I so wish I could come to the service on the 17th, but, in a cosmic twist of fate I will be taking a group of my year 10s,14-15 year olds, to visit Oxford on an outreach day. Some irony, I hope Simon would enjoy. Simon's passing has affected me deeply and I think I know why. Condolences to Greg and the rest of the family - your dad remains much loved. Farewell Mr Stacey. In 176 on a hot summer's day, Reading Lord of the Flies but saying nothing of the gay overtones of Golding's work, focusing on Beast from Air, In an airless, beastly hot south-facing chair. It's strangely entertaining as Mr Stacey continues, Giving us his wisdom on how an author might choose This word or that, a metaphor or simile, Personification or irony, but of course - silly me! These memories of Mr Stacey really aren't about English, Or literature or writing or any of that, Instead they're about the trip to Durham in fourths, Where we had a few drinks and wore a silly hat. It's where, for the first time, I got to represent school, Not for rugby or hockey - nothing so cool, But debating and learning the art of persuasion, And let's face it I stood out there - really not many asians! And Mr Stacey's lilting, smiling welsh voice, To gee us up as he'd worry about Robert Gordon's' boys, Seemed always to be there throughout all of it, Throughout all the time I felt I finally fit. Because of him I met friends I still have, We've shared birthdays and weddings and we've become dads. And I'm sad he's gone, I'm sad he's left, I'm sad that a beautiful family's bereft. So I'll find my copies of Golding and the Bard, And then some Shelley and poems by Agard. With his Catholic God, I hope, please may he, Rest in Peace. Farewell, Mr Stacey. Gopal Rao (2004)