Just a few days ago we found this poem marked in one of mum's poetry anthologies. She had marked it "use at my funeral", it was discovered too late to include in the service, but we copy it here: "Three Good Things" by Jan Dean At day's end I remember three good things. Apples maybe - their skinshine smell and soft froth of juice. Water maybe - the pond in the park dark and full of secret fish. A mountain maybe - that I saw in a film, or climbed last holiday, and suddenly today it thundered up into a playground game. Or else an owl - I heard an owl today, and I made bread. My head is full of these things, it's hard to choose just three. I let remembering fill me up with all good things so that good things will overflow Into my sleeping self, and in the morning good things will be waiting when I wake.