Dear Keith,the brother I never had myself,so many traesured memories of our childhood summer days.catching butterflies and riding on the corn trailers in the harvest time. Loved and missed.

Eulogy by Paul Bowen Good morning, For those who don’t know me, my name is Paul Bowen and I`m a Funeral Celebrant. It is my privilege to be with you once again today to lead this service for you to remember and celebrate the life of your very much-loved Keith Robert Miles First of all, may I thank you all very much for coming to support Keith`s Family and each other today as we remember and give thanks for Keith`s life with more lovely music, words of poetry and memories of him which have all been written or chosen by his lovely Family. From my point of view, I think today should do various things: Firstly, it should enable each of you to say farewell to the Keith that you know in the way that best suits you. Secondly, it should show the love in which Keith was held, and finally, our time together today will give each of you time to remember and celebrate the person Keith was, and indeed is, to each of you. I sadly never had the pleasure and privilege of knowing Keith as you do, only having met him when we arranged dear Roger`s Service some seven years ago, but having spent a little time chatting with Janet and Dean, I wish I had known him better, because I know that these are such good words to describe Keith, who was a much loved: - Brother to Jill, Janet and Derek, all of whom are with us today Brother-in Law to Shirley and The Late Roger and Des Uncle to Dean, Lee, Donna, Zoe and Roy Step-Uncle to Paula, Matthew, Emma and Terri, and a Much-Loved Family member and Friend to many. As I mentioned a few moments ago, all the music for Keith`s Service Today has been chosen with much thought and love, hence we were listening a few moments ago, to his favourite song, the moving: “Jerusalem” sung by Katherine Jenkins, and we will hear more music shortly, but it is, of course, only right and proper that this Service should all be about Keith and your love for him, and as such I`d like to share a little of his Life Story with you now, and my thanks go to Janet for her help with this. Keith was born on the 16th of March 1944 in Great Glenham, the first child of his mum and dad Tom and Lily. As Tom was serving in the war, he didn't meet his son, Keith for another year and a half. When Keith was about 3 the family moved to The Grove, a dark house but Keith loved it because there was an orchard for him to explore. A year later, Jill was born and Keith knew that he'd have to learn to share. When Jill was crying, Keith’s mum asked him to dip her dummy into an egg cup which was filled with Nestle milk. Keith thought it looked nice so tasted it and drunk all of it, and his mum, thinking that he had given it all to Jill. Keith was helped to learn to read, write and draw by a young lady who lived nearby called Miss Lewis. They often went crabbing at Warberswick, where she taught him all about nature on the journey. Very sadly she passed away with tuberculosis when Keith was about four or five. A local farmer neighbour, Mr. Todd, seeing that Keith was sad, put a lamb in his arms with a bottle, so that he could feed it. Keith was in his element. On another occasion Keith was asked to turn the handle of a butter churn, and when Mr. Todd opened it up, Keith was delighted to find that it was butter, and to be told he should take it home to his mum, as he had earned it. Keith remembered that on one occasion, he tied a harness to his dog Bessie and got him to pull a truck filled with his favorite toys, with him sitting on the back of the dog, riding it like a horse, for over a mile until he ended up at Nana Martha`s. The family then moved to Parham and Janet was born, another lovely baby, but as Keith said, another one to share with. Keith soon realised that his box of toys hadn’t moved with them, and when the removal firm said that they didn't have it either, Keith just said he hoped that other children would enjoy them instead. The family were then living at 3 Council Houses but a few months later they moved to number 6, a larger house with more bedrooms. Two years later Keith’s dad told him that his mum was going to have a little baby boy and when Keith saw the doctor arrive with his black bag, he was convinced that his brother was in there. After Derek arrived, the family was complete, and they settled into the village making many friends. As a teenager Keith and his friends enjoyed going to Framingham play near the castle and hanging out in the coffee bar playing lots of music. Always one with a witty remark, when he suffered in life with arthritis, he said it's “arthur- wrong-us”, because there was nothing good or right about it. The family would like to remember Keith as a very special man with a lot of goodness in him, someone who was very caring, we will all miss him very much. To be loved is the most precious gift of all that can be given to us, and Keith was loved very much. I`m sure that each of you here today will have your own precious and cherished memories of the times you shared with him, and I ask that you keep all of these close in your hearts, minds, memories and conversations today and going forward, and you do so for all time, because by doing so, you will keep your beloved Keith close to you for the rest of eternity.

Remembering Uncle It’s hard to fully capture how much Uncle Keith meant to me. After all, he taught me to read, buying me a Disney Weekly comic every week. So that when I got to school I could read The BFG when everyone else was on Roger Red Hat. He set me on this path of learning that I’ve never strayed from. Later on, we’d read Garfield comic strips together until we were laughing so hard we’d have to stop. It sometimes surprises me how much I have in common with uncle, and I’m convinced I will turn into him one day. Sometimes when I see pictures of him when he was younger, with his big ginger beard and cheeky grin, I see a bit of myself. And I feel like if I’d met him in his thirties, as a stranger, we’d have become best friends. Like me, uncle loved media of all kinds and collected everything. His room was filled with strange and interesting things and was a treasure trove for a kid. I vividly remember his cowboy wanted posters and his cabinets of mysterious hard back novels. It’s extremely weird now to be sorting through that same stuff as executor of his Will. When I was a kid, I’d spend almost every weekend with Uncle and Nan at 90 Romney. Mum would walk me over with all my teddies in her shopping trolley, and I’d watch Live and Kicking and Duck Tales while I eagerly waited for him to get back from the bookies. Sometimes my sister Terri would join me and we’d share a Quiz Kids magazine whilst drinking Nesquick milkshakes. When we were looking through uncle’s things I found a stash of drawings I’d made, and it included a schedule I’d drawn up of a typical Saturday: 7.45 The Magic School bus 8.15 Disney Club 9.50 Earthworm Jim 10.15 Saved by the Bell 10.40 Play Computer 12.30 Dinner Interval 1.30 Chess, cards, dice, book !!! Like me uncle loved routine and familiarity, so we’d eat smoked haddock every weekend without fail. Even the time I had to go to A&E to get a fish bone dislodged from my throat didn’t put me off my favourite meal. Uncle’s house was a refuge for me. It was there that I felt happiest and it was where uncle introduced me to so many things I still love: Laurel and Hardy, Dad’s Army, The Young Ones, Monty Python. I can’t help but think of him every time I watch something we would have enjoyed together. So, although there were some moments in the last few years where uncle became a bit sad and wondered why he was here. I don’t think he quite realised how much he meant to so many people. Uncle used to say that everybody had a book in them, and in most cases it should stay there. But he didn’t follow his own advice and has left us with a huge amount of poetry which he obsessively wrote over the last few years and make up his memoirs. I’m going to be editing these into a book. So if anyone is interested in a copy of this then please let me or mum know.

Drifting Away (A Poem written by Janet for the Funeral) Before you closed your eyes Did you remember to take a look At the very many pages of your open book There are very many memories. That you used to share, And if you have a moment I will take you there. There in the countryside, Where the word is wild and free, Take a look around you There are wonderful things to see. You are playing there on the Parham river, Placing jam jars round the edge You’d leave them there a few days Then see what you had fetched. There are sticklebacks and minnows and crested newts The water is quite deep there And sometimes filled your boots. You’d go back home to mum, She’d say: ‘what have you done!’ You’d say not to worry I was only having fun. You had a lot of friends and spent many days together going on country walks in all kinds of weather. Sometimes you’d go to Acton With Barbara that you knew You were fond of her and she was fond of you. You often looked for butterflies In the hedgerows as you walked And sometimes you would have a rest And just sat around and talked. You had two friends called Bob and Bill, And sometimes you’d go to the ‘Castle on the Hill’. As teens you’d all meet at Framlingham And hang out in the coffee bars. You loved to listen to music there And put on many of your favourite stars. There was Budy Holly, Eddie Cochran and Patsy Cline too. You said they were special And meant the world to you. You watched lots of Westerns, Your favourite was Randolf Scott, He was your special hero, Whom you never ever forgot. You always remembered birthdays And you were very kind Sometimes you’d be quite generous And put a gift inside. You used to go to Felixstowe To see our sister Jill, We often had a lift there From your best friend Bill. Dean would come for weekends And spend some time with you. You would have smoked haddock And play a game or two. You spent several years With families at Christmas time, And I’m sure they have fond memories That often come to mind. And now I’d like to thank you for the memories that you made, You said that you were ready And that you were not afraid. So now you are free at last Just like you wanted to be. Climb up on your trusty steed And give a wave to me. Happy trails, Love you x

Thank you for setting up this memorial to Keith. We hope that you find it a positive experience developing the site and that it becomes a place of comfort and inspiration for you to visit whenever you want or need to.

I am I and you are you, whatever we were to each other that we still are. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? Life means all that it ever meant, it is the same as it ever was.