I meant to write this post a couple of weeks ago but All The Things keep happening and time to write a blog post has just not been one of them.

But if I don’t do it now, it might remain one of the many, many posts that end up staying in my head and I don’t want that, because I’d like to introduce you to Frank:

Frank was the florist in my village until a few weeks ago when with no fanfare at all, the florist closed.  Luckily, someone had posted on the village Facebook group that it was imminent and I rushed down to say my goodbyes

Because you see, Frank is one of those people I don’t actually know – in his case I’ve never seen him outside the shop he worked in, I don’t know his surname, and I’ve never had so much as a cup of tea with him.  But he has a little space in my heart.

Frank was known locally – at least a few years ago – as someone who could be a bit tricky.  He didn’t do niceties for the sake of them and he could be more than a little direct.  However, it didn’t take much to realise that Frank was actually a mirror, and if you went in smiling and asked him how he was, his eyes shone and he’d be yours for as long as you were in front of him.

He made gorgeous bouquets, planted up planters (and when they didn’t have any he planted up ones I took in at no charge other than the plants) and he told me when to buy plants and when there were better alternatives ‘God, no, don’t buy that foxglove.  Find some that are going to seed and plant those instead…’

But what I loved most about visiting Frank was his stories.  You had to dig a little, but he had many – from his first job at London Zoo aged 16 where there were military style uniform checks, to his love of fashion from working in all sorts of places resulting in boxes of brand new clothes at home that he’s never worn as they weren’t right in a florist, to his agreement with his neighbours that he’d always leave his work boots outside and his door unlocked when he was at home, so should they not move for a while, they would know to check on him.

Frank has alway made me feel good too.  Even more recently when I don’t bother with makeup and wear the same oversized t-shirt or jumper (depending on the season) and my jeans, he’d find something, telling me that my boots are ‘right on trend’ or that ‘that colour really suits you’.

I took Frank a card I wrote where I tried to use words to tell him that he had been a light in the village for me and I bought some of the tin containers the flowers were displayed in.  We cut out their bottoms and planted them in the front garden where the earth is terrible and only weeds grow.  I’ve layered bulbs in them (apparently its called a ‘bulb lasagne’ – who knew?!) and I hope that they might look lovely in the spring.  Until then I have pansies, violas poking out there heads and inside, one of the last bouquets Frank made for the shop.

I do find it amazing how much someone you don’t really know can touch your life and add more than a few smiles. I’m going to miss that lovely man.