Ivan Rendall 1947-2016
Journalist, TV Producer, Writer, Narrator, Author
It is with deep sadness we have to inform Ivan’s many readers and followers of his death in July 2016 following an operation. His health had not been good for some time but, in his usual way, he dismissed the seriousness of it even up to the end. For him thinking and writing was all important and he entered his last blog less than 24 hours before the operation.
At his funeral his youngest daughter Katie-Mary, after giving her own tribute, read out this poem – the last he composed – sent to his grand-daughters from hospital. We post it as a tribute to him here:
This Too Will Pass
I am a dry, warm summer day,
I am the cool, blue pyjama sky,
I am the puffs of egg –white cloud,
I am the waving trees: wind-rustled, aloud.
I am the murmur of tranquil sounds:
I am the tractor, straining, breaking ground.
I am the smell of new mown hay,
I am the flock of lambs at play.
I am the wildflower rainbow, below the hedge.
I am the bumblebee in a maze of scents.
I am the frantic, zigzag, butterflies,
I am the pheasants’ and the black crows’ cries.
BUT
I am the angry storm not far away,
I am the anvil cloud of warship grey,
I am the deluge growing inside,
I am the fresh wind, rising, wild.
I am the fear of lightning flashes,
I am the awe to thunder crashes,
I am the wet, earthy atmosphere
I am the warning on the clammy air.
I am where the Wild Things hide.
I am the hedge umbrella, leafy and wide.
I am the thatch of green blackberries.
I am raindrops the size of cherries.
THEN,
I am the suddenly soaking land.
I am the dripping trees, and
I am the thirsty, gurgling ditch,
I am the puddles: muddily rich.
I am the tempest’s sudden passing.
I am the sunshine in a rain-washed sky
I am the steam rising from fields
I am wildlife emerging from their shields.
I am now the storm at bay.
I am a dry, warm summer day.
Granddad 2016
For Ivan’s website – unaltered since 3 July 2016 – click here.