Yesterday Pete Clarke was laid to rest. The church in Kirkbymoorside was filled.
There must have been at least 350 people, from both the motor racing world and
the flying one as well as Pete's family.
The service was conducted by the Rev Alan Hughes, who was a lifelong friend.
He talked about many personal memories of Pete's exploits and character, things
like " Many who were offered a lift in the Bug Eyed Sprite didn't accept a
second one!" Alan accepted many offers of flights from Boonhill over the North
Yorks moors. Finally he read the beautiful poem by John Magee already placed
here earlier by Roger Sheridan.
Afterwards the congregation went to the lovely little cemetary at Kirkdale,a few
miles to the west in a tiny valley. As the coffin was lowered into the ground a
Tornado flew over the top, pulled up and climbed away. A few seconds later a
single Red Arrows Hawk with white smoke did the same and finally a pair of
Tucanos in tight formation flew overhead. Many of those who had managed to hold
back the tears finally succumbed to their emotions. What greater mark of respect
could the RAF pay to a man who had mostly taught himself to fly and in a few
years gained the admiration of some of the best professional pilots in the
world.
After the service we all piled into the George and Dragon . It was good to meet
Bett, Pete's wife, easy to see why he loved her, and his young son Jonathan.
Bett told me that Jonathan had already decided that he was going to do exactly
what his Dad had done, become a racing driver and pilot. "Pete hasn't really
gone" was the phrase she used. "He's there, in Jonathan"
A sad, but wonderful day, and one that I, and I'm sure all who were there will
never forget.
Graham
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