Delivered on Thursday 15th August 2024, at Bunyan Meeting Church in Bedford, in front of packed out service.

We are all, I feel, like dry stone walls. (Not something you thought you’d be called today, I bet.) The sort of walls that line the countryside roads of the United Kingdom, and especially Wales. You know the ones I mean, you construct them by placing well-fitting rocks on top of and around each other to form a tall, long and ultimately strong structural wall. 

Your life’s wall consists of many stones, some bigger and more crucial than others, but even the smallest can have a vital role to play in the integrity of your being. Gareth Davies was part of all our walls. And the beauty of his friendship is that even though he is no longer with us, the strength of his stone remains. Thank you to the Davies family for allowing me to talk about their most important stone today.

You might know that Gareth loved the work of William Shakespeare, loved reciting lines, loved the power of language and the voice. So it seems more than a fitting tribute to use the Bard’s words to help tell his story to you.

“There was a star danced, and under that, was I born.” 
– Much Ado About Nothing, Act 2 Scene 1

Gareth Wyn Davies was born on Friday 13th March 1941 to parents Tom and Elunud, he was a younger brother to Marilyn and became an older brother to David. 

Cefneithin was his birthplace and as a young boy, two things struck him as favourable: singing and rugby. Singing was a family heirloom, as we’ve heard, but rugby was the shared dream in Ceifneithin.

In the village, the sport was omnipresent: Barry John was growing up down the road, the Primary School Headmaster WJ Jones was a Wales international, and Carwyn James, who would later guide the British and Irish Lions to victory in New Zealand, coached the village side. It was James who told Davies to think about moving to centre from fullback and Gareth remained close to Carwyn, and all his advice, until his unfortunate passing in 1983.

Gareth attended Ysgol y Gwendraeth (where one of his favourite teachers was Ray Williams who played on the wing for Wales) and then went to Trinity College in Carmarthen. He captained his School’s 1st XV and fostered a lifelong appreciation for cricket while at school. He loved the learning environment; the buzz, the camaraderie, the constant busyness. Teaching was an obvious vocation for him to sign up to. So he did, and, on leaving school, became a qualified teacher.

With the Wales teaching job market a little scant, and even though he’d recently represented Llanelli as a player, Gareth eventually made the brave decision to leave Wales and move east to England’s capital. Alongside his cousin, Gwynhaf, he turned up at County Hall and quickly got assigned to Camrose Secondary Modern School in Edgware.

This was quite a leap and indeed, on his first visit to London, he parked his car in the wrong spot near Hyde Park and promptly received a ticket and a 10 shilling fine. He kept it as a memento because on it, in the traffic warden’s handwriting, was the feeble excuse that our beloved country mouse had offered up at the time, it read: “I’m brand new in London.” said Mr Davies. “I’ve never seen double yellow lines before.”

Looking for a rugby fix in the capital, perhaps naturally, Gareth turned up at Old Deer Park. His cousin was a prop, and the pair of them began turning out regularly for the Druids, London Welsh’s second team, which, in truth, was quite a brilliant second team. Gareth did get game time with the first team, occasionally replacing the great John Dawes in the centre. Rather memorably, the second game he played for London Welsh was against Bedford, the exiles won 20-5, courtesy, naturally, of two G.W. Davies drop goals, but in the opposition that day were Budge Rogers, Roger Slaughter and Pat Briggs, men who would end up becoming the dearest of friends. 

“A heaven on earth I have won by wooing you.”
– All’s Well That End’s Well,  Act 4, Scene 2

But London’s stars were aligning for a different reason. Love was in the air. However, Gareth and Marie’s first meeting was an unwanted one: Gareth gatecrashing a party Marie was having in Putney but, luckily, he made enough of an impression, because, at their next encounter, he asked her to dance and she accepted. Their first proper date was a week or so later, where, without much thought, Marie agreed to accompany him to a club in Hornsey where they would attend a Welsh concert. 

A quick hop and skip across London and Marie was positioned in the corner, those of you with a frame of reference from a certain Patrick Swayze film can chorus the line now – ‘Nobody puts Marie in the corner’ – but it was from there that she looked on as, to her surprise and delight, her date for the evening, left her on her own to take the stage and sing a whole set alongside his cousins to a rapturous audience. Yes, that’s right: Gareth and Marie’s first date was to go and watch a show that Gareth was in. 

Singing, you see, was still very much in his heart. It evidenced itself around six months later when he sustained a very nasty ankle and leg break while playing rugby, which meant he ended up in hospital for an operation under general anaesthetic. Marie was in the waiting room when she heard an unmistakable voice reverberating off the hospital walls. Clear as a bell, and singing his favourite hymn, the one which began this service, Bugail Aberdyfi, Gareth was completely unconscious but belting out all the words perfectly. When they wheeled him through, he received a standing ovation from those in the waiting room, and yet he was none the wiser.

Gareth spent a while on crutches, after this injury, struggling around London, but it was during his convalescing that he made the best decision of his life. He asked Marie to marry him and when she said yes, they celebrated in the only way logically possible: with London’s many romantic spots eagerly awaiting their visit, Gareth and Marie went to Lords to watch the MCC take on New Zealand.

Three months later, in 1965, they were married at a beautiful service in Abercynon and just a year later in 1966, a job in Bedford popped up on the Davies’ radar. The role immediately struck a chord because of Goldington Road and the players he could play alongside. Thus began Gareth’s greatest era. Bedford would become his home, his club, the place where he was most cherished. 

And, when I am forgotten… say, I taught thee
– Henry VIII, Act 3 Scene 2

Gareth’s teaching career could form a book on its own. His ability to influence and nourish young minds seemed easy, but it wasn’t.

His work at Westfield School was seminal. Gareth was relentless in his pursuit of the right avenue for all those in his care, he spent hours coaching, coercing and willing young people to push themselves and make the most of their opportunities. He patrolled every available square inch of Queens Park, even coordinating with the local policeman, Dave Evans, to make sure that if there was any trouble, it was sorted out quickly and completely.

He moved on to John Howard School, which later merged with Pilgrim School and then became Biddenham Upper, and Gareth’s didactic care only improved. He joined forces with another exiled Welshman, the towering Keith Roberts, and their partnership doubled the pastoral output. Gareth became famous across the local school landscape for the way he and Roberts pursued the challenge of truancy, misbehaviour and unfulfilled potential.

And if you want to know how dogged Davies and Roberts were in their efforts, no better example can be the daubing of some graffiti up on the bridge stretching over the railway line between Midland Road and Queens Park. In tall, unmistakable letters was written a phrase that all around could see, which both men accepted as an accurate representation of how tirelessly they worked to get kids educated, it read: “Roberts and Davies are b******ds!’ I won’t say the word, in such company, but I do like the sentiment expressed. Because, you see, Gareth Davies would never, ever give up on you.

In 1973, Lucy was born and, as a parent, Gareth found his favourite calling. Being a dad was perhaps only outdone by becoming a grandfather (Tad-cu) to Alfie and Kitty years later. Being a father was his finest role. He led by modelling patient, kind and generous virtues. He shared with Lucy his love of music, literature, sport and art and she went on to graduate in English and work in the world of written journalism with world-famous publications. 

Lucy married Harry in 2006 and Gareth was exceptionally honoured to add father-in-law to his list of responsibilities and relationships. He was incredibly proud of his daughter and everything she did. He would always talk of her. 

In 2009 and 2012 respectively, Alfie and Kitty were born and Gareth realised his final incarnation. As a doting Tad-cu, Gareth explored the world anew; listening, valuing, spoiling and supporting both of them in everything they did. They were the brightest of lights in his illuminated world, and the stories he shared, the laughter he exchanged, and the love he experienced in the company of both Alfie and Kitty were the best gifts he ever received. 

“How far that little candle throws its beams!”
– Merchant of Venice, Act 5 Scene 1

Now I know Budge will try and do justice to Gareth’s Bedford rugby career a little bit later on, but a little on his stats: 81 games for the first team; over three hundred games for the Wanderers, Rovers and Rams (the 2nd, 3rd and 4th Teams), many as captain; to this day, he remains the record holder for the most amount of drop goals in one season (12) not even Jake Sharp could get close to that, and he was responsible for an undeniably grand total of 17,456 sidesteps in a Blues shirt.

However, what was even greater than his playing efforts was his level of devotion when operating as kit man for 26 years, and then serving the club as President between the years of 2003 and 2017.

The role of a kit man is unseen, but examples itself everywhere. This was Gareth at his best. Behind the scenes, making others look good, tirelessly attaining detailed excellence. His relationship with every player was both paternal and pivotal. He entertained players’ kids on training nights, found ingenious ways around any problem and even looked after the unofficial club dog, Monty Pritchard. 

For anyone who had anything to do with Bedford Blues, Gareth Davies meant something: the players, the coaches, the management, the fans, even opponents; all smitten by the glint in his eye and his undeniable personality. He was such an obvious choice for his next role at the club.

Gareth was made President of Bedford Blues in 2003 and the Blues could not have wished for anyone better. Both Gareth and Marie were known up and down the land and embodied everything good the club stood for. Such were their accomplishments on behalf of the club both were inducted as honorary life members of Bedford Blues.

They were a unique pair. After Marie retired from teaching, they both travelled the world extensively (mostly in conjunction with well-known rugby events) and enjoyed wonderful hospitality in Australia, South Africa, New Zealand, Canada, the USA and all over Europe. The Rugby network is vast and Gareth and Marie traversed it skilfully, hand in hand, connecting with friends old and new, ingratiating themselves in every environment with ease, and leaving behind nothing but wonderful memories.

In 2005, Mike Rayer was appointed Director of Rugby at Bedford and he returned to the town, having played a few years previous, and returned with his family: Debra, Abigail and Lloyd. The Davies Rayer union was endearing and enduring. Gareth’s fondness for the whole family was unmistakable: Debra played chauffeur on many a journey around the country, and watching Abigail and Lloyd grow and develop brought a lot of laughter, pleasure and, on occasion, a few tears!

Gareth Davies was an incredible man who made an incredible impression on everyone. The outpouring of grief these last few weeks has not been because he is gone, but because he was here. Here in our world, giving us his smile, his song, his patience, his love of all people. There was no one he didn’t want to interact with. 

No sport failed to interest him, every pastime piqued his curiosity. He could discuss at length snooker cues, baton relays, putting strokes and sailing winds. The man loved competition and marvelled at the human form. If he discovered something interesting, he’d share it with you. Gareth Davies was one of life’s givers. And he gave himself to us all.

But eventually, his health gave way. Surrounded by his friends, in these last few months, Gareth raged against the dying of the light, but by late July 2024, the inevitable knocked on his door.

However tough the ending, it could never sour the story. The fun, the joy, the love of life was indisputable. Gareth was just so bloody dependable. His demeanour, steady and consistent, his smile as reliable as his memory. As I say, a vital stone in all our walls.

To conclude, it seems only fitting to borrow again from Shakesepeare and his most famous play ‘Hamlet‘. Tweaked somewhat for our purposes, so forgive me. 

Simply, put:

Gareth Wyn Davies was a paragon of animals:
noble in presidential reason, 
infinite in kitman faculty, 
in rugby form, so express,
in song, so admirable,
he represented the beauty of this world. 

Now cracks a noble heart. Goodnight, sweet prince. 

Thank you.