The following  is taken directly from the Celebrant's notes at Herbert's funeral on the 27th April 2026:

A very warm welcome to you all, gathered here today in the beautiful setting of the Forest of Dean.

We are here to honour and celebrate the life of Herbert Charles Cooper, a
remarkable man who lived a long, full and fruitful 102 years.

It is worth pausing to reflect on just how much the world changed during Herbert’s
lifetime. From the first BBC broadcast of the Big Ben chimes in 1923 the year
Herbert was born, through the beginning and end of the Second World War, to more
recent times with the pandemic and everything in between. His life spanned an era
of extraordinary transformation.

As many of you will know, Herbert was a man with green fingers, someone who
understood and appreciated the rhythms of nature. It feels fitting, therefore, to think
of life much like the changing seasons.

Life starts in the spring, a time of new beginnings and growth. It flourishes in the
summer years, full of energy, purpose and vitality. Then comes the autumn, when the
fruits of one’s labour can be gathered, shared, and enjoyed.And finally, we arrive at winter which is often seen as a time of slowing, of quiet reflection, and gentle rest.
But for Herbert, winter did not quite follow that familiar pattern.
 

He continued to live with strength, independence and an extraordinary vitality that
defied expectation. He was a man of remarkable resilience and spirit, someone who,
as I’m told, was still climbing trees in his seventies and still driving at 100 years old!
Herbert truly embraced life in every season.

And now, as we reflect on his life and all that he meant to those who knew and loved
him, we hold on to those memories with gratitude and affection.
I would like to invite Herbert’s son, Graham to come forward to the lectern to read a
poem. It is a piece that Herbert himself kept a copy of, and one that clearly meant
something to him.

Poem – ‘Abou Ben Adhem’ by Leigh Hunt

‘Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.’

It is not hard to see why that poem may have meant something to Herbert, with its
simple but thoughtful message, that love for God is best shown through how we live
our lives and how we treat the people around us.

He was someone who lived very much in the moment, valuing time with his family
and friends, and taking real satisfaction in the garden where he spent so many
hours. In his own straightforward way, he showed that same quiet care and
appreciation for life that the poem speaks of.

A Tribute to Herbert
Today we gather to remember and celebrate the life of Herbert Charles Cooper,
known to many simply as Herbie. Trying to do justice to 102 years of life in just a few
moments is no easy task, but we will do our very best to reflect on the man he was
and the life he lived.

Herbert was born on the 16th of June 1923, one of twelve children born to Beatrice
and Walter Cooper. A true local lad, he spent his life rooted in Viney Hill, a place that
remained part of him throughout the years.

Family stories tell us a great deal about where Herbert’s character came from.
There’s a well-loved tale of his father Walter, who, when filling in forms for his
benefits, was asked by the Benefits Officer if all twelve children were his. Walter
replied, “I think so, but I’ll ask the wife when I get home.” That dry, unmistakable
Forest sense of humour clearly ran in the family, and it was something Herbert
carried with him throughout his life.

Like many children of his time, Herbert began his education at Viney Hill Church
School, before winning a scholarship to Lydney Grammar School, where he
remained until 1939.

Those younger years were spent very much outdoors. Herbert enjoyed bird nesting
and rabbiting, and it gave him an extensive knowledge of birds and the natural world.
He and the other local lads would often set themselves challenges, a favourite was
seeing how far they could freewheel on their bicycles from Viney Hill down to
Blakeney without using pedals or brakes.

When asked what he did after leaving school, Herbert’s answer was humorously
straightforward, he said he “mooched about” for a while, before eventually starting
work at the Lydney Wagon Works. Like so many of his generation, however, his path
was soon shaped not simply by choice, but by circumstance. With the war effort
calling, and with his brothers already serving in the Navy, Herbert went on to join the
RAF, not as a career decision, as younger people today might imagine, but as his
contribution in a time when service was needed.

Herbert was a little vague on exact dates from those earlier years, and when asked
when he had joined the RAF, Herbert simply replied that he wasn’t too sure, only that
“just after joining, the Allies began winning.”

Herbert went on to serve in the RAF until the beginning of 1947, during which time
he achieved the rank of Sergeant. Yet even amid the discipline and duty of service
life, another of Herbert’s great passions never left him. In his younger years he had
been a talented footballer, a goalkeeper of real skill and instinct. So valued were
those abilities that, even in the RAF, he continued to train and play, and on one
occasion was even held back from moving on until a suitable replacement
goalkeeper could be found.

Many of you will also remember how his love of the game carried on long after his
playing days. Herbert took up refereeing, and in that role, he became just as
respected. He had a naturally friendly manner, but there was always an
unmistakable air of authority about him. He knew how to keep order, how to be fair,
and how to command respect, qualities that made him an excellent referee and a
trusted figure on the pitch.

Away from football, Herbert’s life was enriched in the most important way when he
married Violetta, a local girl who became his lifelong partner. Together, they built
something truly special, a relationship that was steady, traditional, and full of quiet
devotion. It was the kind of partnership many would look at and admire, built not on
grand gestures but on everyday acts of care and consistency.

Their years together were filled with small, meaningful rituals that spoke volumes
about their affection for one another. Herbert would faithfully bring her a cup of tea in
bed every morning, and she would bake cakes for him. These simple exchanges
carried a deep sense of love and companionship.

And then there was Herbert’s charming sense of occasion. He never forgot a
birthday or Valentine’s Day, and true to form, out would come the plastic rose from
the drawer, an enduring symbol of his thoughtfulness and his gentle sense of
humour. It may not have been extravagant, but it was unmistakably Herbert, and it
always made its mark.

Together, they built not just a marriage, but a family and a home filled with life. They
raised their three children, Phillipa, Pauline, and Graham, surrounded by love,
routine, and a strong sense of belonging. The Cooper family’s roots run deep in
Viney Hill; generations have now lived on the same plot of land, and Herbert took
great pride in continuing that legacy.

Over the years, he acquired pieces of the surrounding land, shaping it into the
bountiful garden so many will remember. However, it was more than just a garden, it
was a testament to his patience, his care, and appreciation in cultivating life.
Many of you will also remember Herbert as a long-time employee at Pine End
Works, where he worked in Cost Accounting – his family tell me that Herbert had a
sharp mind and could tell you measurements and calculations at the flick of a switch.
But working at Pine End certainly had its uses. Herbert was nothing if not resourceful
and hands-on, always finding ways to turn an idea into something real. One of the
finest examples of this was his very first greenhouse, built from a telegraph pole he
had, shall we say, “obtained.”

He took it down to Pine End to be cut to size, and from that, the greenhouse began
to take shape. With the help of his brother-in-law Alf, who laid the brick foundations,
it became something solid and enduring, just like so much else in Herbert’s life.
Herbert’s resourcefulness was something quite remarkable, and it seemed there was
very little he couldn’t turn his hand to. Determined to make his greenhouse thrive, he
devised his own heating system, somehow acquiring a small coal-fired boiler along
with lengths of four-inch pipe. Fuelled by forest coal that he would collect from local
drift mines, he created a warmth that allowed his plants to flourish, even in the colder
months.

Herbert would often recruit his children to lend a hand in the garden, and those same
pipes became part of their fondest memories. They told me of happy times sitting on
the warm pipes that ran through the greenhouse, listening to ‘The Navy Lark’ or
‘Hancock’s Half Hour’, while their dad worked nearby, carefully transplanting
seedlings under the soft glow of a Tilly lamp.

Herbert’s approach to many things was always practical and inventive. He made his
own potting compost, gathering leaf mould and ferns from the forest in his barrow,
carefully preparing it for use. From that, he cultivated tomatoes, cucumbers and
bedding plants which he proudly sold both from home and at work. He had a knack
for seeing potential in the simplest of materials, constructing plant boxes from spare
plywood and even making individual pots out of salvaged plastic cups. Nothing was
wasted, and everything had a purpose.

That same ingenuity extended beyond the garden. Herbert even built, with the help
of his brother-in-law Jim, a cab onto the back of his old truck. A unique creation,
made of course from Plywood. It featured windows made with greenhouse glass and
back doors secured with a bolt that, often, had a habit of working itself loose on the
road. Pauline remembers this all too clearly. On one journey through Abergavenny,
the bolt gave way entirely, and before anyone could react, their holiday bags began
tumbling out onto the road behind them.

And while some of Herbert’s inventions might fairly be described as a little rustic,
they were never without purpose. Everything he made had a practicality about it, and
more than that, a sense that it could always be improved. Herbert was never one to
stand still when there was a better way of doing something.

Graham told me how, in later years, his father made what might be considered one
of his more refined upgrades to the greenhouse. It was fitted with electric lights and .
if his mum needed him, she could simply flash the lights on and off from the house.
And if Herbert happened to be lingering a little too long, she could just as easily
switch them off altogether as a gentle but unmistakable hint that it was time for bed.
It was, without doubt, a marked improvement on the previous method, which
involved her standing at the doorstep calling “Herrrbert!” down to the bottom of the
garden.

As the years passed, their children grew up and went on to make lives of their own,
each following their own path but always carrying with them the steady values they
had been raised with. And in time, Herbert stepped into a new and deeply cherished
role, that of Grandad.

I’m told he had a wonderful ability to connect with people of all ages, an easy, natural
way about him that made others feel comfortable in his company. It meant that he
formed strong and lasting bonds with all of his grandchildren. He was always there, ready to pick them up, to lend a hand, to drop whatever he was doing if he was needed. And there are many fond memories of Herbert arrivinat their doorsteps, with a huge box of fresh vegetables from the garden, perfectly timed and ready for the ‘Sunday roast’.

With retirement also came more time for Herbert and Violetta to enjoy together. They
took holidays to Spain and in their seventies, they joined a Modern Sequence Dance
club, something that speaks volumes about their spirit and their willingness to keep
life moving, quite literally, in step with one another.

As old age started to catch up to Violetta, the family remarked that their dad quietly
took on more and more of the day-to-day tasks, caring for her in the same steady,
devoted way that had always defined their relationship. In true Herbert fashion, this
even extended to batch baking cakes.

Herbert’s family have said that his vim and vigour never really left him. It certainly
showed. At 83 years old, as you can see in the beautiful photograph on the front of
the Order of Service, he was still out laying concrete blocks as a base for Graham’s
garden shed, getting on with the job in the same practical, determined way he
always had, though he may have needed a little help. And even into his 90s, he was
still swimming once a week in Lydney, keeping active and carrying on as if it were
the most natural thing in the world.

In many ways, Herbert was simply built differently. There was a strength about him, a
resilience and a solid constitution that carried him through the years. He was not
someone who slowed down easily, and even when time inevitably began to catch up,
there was still that spark.

In the last few months, that sharpness of mind was as clear as ever. He could
complete crosswords in what seemed like the blink of an eye and would often
surprise his family by suddenly calling out the answer to a quiz question on the
television, just when they thought he had drifted off to sleep.

He lived a life to be admired. Not just for its remarkable length, but for the way it was
lived, with perseverance, quiet determination, and a steadfast spirit that never faded
We’re now going to have our hymn, Abide with Me.

This feels a particularly fitting choice as the family have fond memories of their Mum
and Dad going to the FA Cup, where they joined in singing this well-known hymn
before the match. It’s one of those shared moments that stayed with them, standing
side by side and singing together among the crowd.

So today, it seems only right that we come together and join in song, please stand if
you are able.

Hymn
Abide with Me
‘Abide with me: fast falls the even-tide ;
The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide :
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me !
Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ,
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ;
Change and decay in all around I see ;
O Thou, who changest not, abide with me !
Be Thou Thyself before my closing eyes ;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ;
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee,
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me !’
 

Over the course of almost 103 years, Herbert touched the lives of a great many
people.

His son Graham shared with me just a small selection of the many emails and
messages received from friends, and from the large and close-knit family he was
such a valued part of. In those messages, people spoke of his friendliness and his
good sense of humour.

One recalled, how their wedding day was briefly interrupted by a telegram from
Herbert which read, “Broken down, fed up and going home.” And there were many
who simply remembered how he always seemed to have a smile on his face.
It is clear from these memories that Herbert made a lasting impression on those
around him.

And so now, I would like to invite his nephew Roger to come forward to the lectern
and share some of his and other cousin’s memories of their ‘Uncle Herb’.

Memories from Nephew Roger 
‘Funny how memories can be personal, and cross over. So- Wendy with
greenhouses and being ‘Wopsy’, and icing from the Christmas Cake. Dorothy with
greenhouses, and a few sneaky pennies coming her way for helping out. Sylv with
dolls houses which lit up, rides in the ‘covered wagon’ jalopy, the Coronation
Tricycle, being taught to float even though she couldn’t swim. Christine with camping
holidays and chasing paper places at 100th birthday party. Then there’s the hokey
cokey, one finger one thumb keep moving, Albert & the lion, bicycle repairs, New
Year’s Eve with bubble & squeak, table tennis. The happy times we all spent at
Green Acres. And, your Dad’s gift of being able to make us all feel special, just by
being himself. We would love to be able to share our memories.
And I might have to spend 30 seconds talking about his children.’

As you know, earlier in the service we were welcomed with a poem that helped begin
our time of remembrance.

Now we have the special opportunity to hear more personal tributes; poems written
with love by Herbert’s daughter, Pauline and his Granddaughter Michelle, with
memories from her siblings and cousins.

I’d like to invite his Granddaughter Tammy and her husband Olly to come forward to
the lectern and share these with us all.

Family Tributes (Tammy and Olly) Michelle’s Memories & Pauline’s Poem
Grandad
A lovely grandad, great grandad and great, great grandad too
Here are some memories that we have of you
Out in your garden planting and weeding
Using your veg for Sunday dinner feeding
We usually saw you in your wellies and sometimes with a hat
Or in your moving greenhouse, we were fascinated by that!
cucumbers, tomatoes, and Marigolds
Your Wooden sign listing plants to be sold
Red grapes you grew in a greenhouse plot
demijohn filled, watch the bubbles pop!
Viney Hill wine was a treat
Though Walking after was a feat!!
You designed and built your lovely home
With fire grates of forest stone
Some of us recall your Lego model proof
And climbing the ladders to see the roof
Retirement signs we did make
And Nan making your favourite fruitcake
Off in your caravan to Pentwyn sands
Dancing on Wednesdays with our Nan
You loved the quick step, but Nan wasn’t keen
So, you taught it to others, and danced like a dream
Bourbon biscuits Becks received in the post
They were the biscuit you loved the most!
Watching the cricket over in Ross
Pic Nic table vibes you did boss!
Blue swimming trunks that aged so well
How long have you had them, no one can tell!
We will miss you in the days and years to come
But will cherish the memories of you sitting in the sun
Good night and God bless Grandad.’

Dad
You grew up on Viney and never left
Except for some time in the RAF
Working the anti-aircraft gun
And writing poems to our Mum
On a football pitch you liked to be
From goalkeeping to referee
When you missed the train, you were meant to catch
Walked the old Severn bridge for a football match
Playing football for your local team
To play for Arsenal was your dream
Your garden was a special treat
Things good to look at and good to eat
The veggie patch meant you were able
To find something fresh for the dining table
A greenhouse that moved on metal runs
Tomatoes and winter chrysanthemums
Home-made seed boxes full of plants
You’d pay us thruppence to transplant
Caravan holidays by the sea
A picnic table with a pot of tea
Belly boarding through the waves
On a plywood surfboard you had made
In your cut off shorts we think of you
Your old army boots, battered slippers too
You always seemed content with life
So long Dad, God Bless, nigh night.’

It is now time to bid a fond farewell to Herbert, a much-loved father, grandfather,
great grandfather, great-great grandfather, uncle and friend. A man who was,
through and through, strong, capable, and quietly determined, and who embraced
each season of his life just as he tended the changing seasons in his garden.
He knew the value of patience, of care, and of taking each day as it came, all while
surrounded by the steady and all-encompassing love of his family.
And yet, this is not a moment Herbert would have wished to be filled with sadness.
He would far more likely encourage you to lift your head, to look at the world around
you, and to recognise the opportunities that life continues to offer. Just as he
nurtured his garden, he would want you to keep tending to your own lives, to plant
new ideas, to grow your dreams, and to take quiet satisfaction in all that flourishes
along the way.

Above all, Herbert would want you to smile.

So, as we come towards the close of this service, his family would like to thank you
for your attendance here today.
We bid Herbert farewell, returning him, in a sense, to a garden of his own, reunited
with Violetta, in a peaceful place of rest.