It is with mixed feelings that Ms. Gwyneth Farmer shares that her estranged father, Bryant Farmer, has passed away unexpectedly, tripping in a field, on Easter Sunday in Llanbadarn Fawr, Ceredigion, Wales, whilst probably rummaging for Easter eggs and hallucinogenic mushrooms or searching for the Easter Bunny—no one will ever know for sure. The sheep’s frightened bleat alerted the shepherd of the unfortunate incident.

Bryant’s wish to die in his sleep, at his cousin’s house by the sea, in Aberystwyth—the house he squatted for decades until, finally, the poor woman managed to evict his sorry arse—may not have come true, but he did die in a sea of debt.

Bryant wasn’t a bad man; he had great ideas and big dreams, but his brain and skills never quite allowed for more. The mushrooms might have been to blame. Or not… lest we forget his stint in prison for burglary.

As a non-existent father figure, Gwyneth shall mourn him for what could have been rather than what was.

Bryant will not be interred with his late wife, Nerys Davies, who despised him, but there will be a simple ceremony in Llanbadarn Fawr, on Saturday the 26th of April at sunrise, the sheep bleating as a choir, as his ashes spread a little magic on the mushrooms he so loved.