I CAME away from the funeral of a 95-year-old neighbour this week realising just how much we can learn from a life lived well.

I first met Major Walker, who we soon came to know as Peter, about five years ago when I was out for a walk with my boisterous boys in an attempt to burn off some of their excess energy. Then aged 13, 11, nine, six and two, caked in mud and dressed in their tatty old play clothes, they looked like a particularly scruffy bunch of urchins.

As always, one of them was trying to murder one of the others. Someone else was crying and complaining he “didn’t want to go on a stupid walk”. I had to chase after another who kept running out into the road, while stopping one of his brothers from poking someone’s eye out with a stick I was feeling pretty stressed out.

On occasions like this, I had become used to people tut-tutting, or crossing the road to avoid us. We were, after all, doing a pretty good job of shattering the peace and quiet of the countryside.

And then Peter, an incredibly fit 89-year-old, appeared, striding along in the opposite direction. He crossed the road and headed straight for us.

I thought he was going to complain about the noise or the boys’ bad behaviour.

But, looking dapper in his plusfours and wearing a jaunty little beret, he simply smiled warmly and said: “You have a wonderful family.”

And he meant it. I looked at the boys and thought: “He’s right.” I could have cried with gratitude.

At times like this, the smallest word or gesture, a little act of kindness or a note of encouragement, can mean so much. But how often do any of us take the time to offer it?

I guessed that day that Peter, charming and unassuming, and a true gentleman, was quite a special person and everything I learnt about him over the next five years, as we got to know him and his wife Jean better, confirmed I was right.

Sadly, Peter, who had abandoned a career in law to volunteer for the Army in 1939 and became a physics and maths teacher after the war, died on April 11. At his funeral last week, I met countless others whose lives he touched.

One of the many moving tributes during the service came from one of his former pupils, Professor John Trinick, now professor of animal cell biology at Leeds University.

Prof Trinick had failed the 11-plus and drifted through secondary school, with no interest in science, until he arrived, aged 16, at Scarborough Technical College where Peter took him, and a few others who had been written off academically, under his wing to nurture their talents.

Young John’s Eureka moment came when Peter helped him to realise how he could calculate the force on a rope mooring an undersea mine by subtracting its weight from the weight of the seawater it displaced, applying the Archimedes Principle.

Suddenly this particular 16-year-old could see the point of physics.

“The penny dropped and I got such a kick out of that. I have been getting a kick out of science ever since,” he told us.

When Prof Trinick went on to gain exceptionally good O-level results, Peter spoke to his parents and persuaded them to let him stay to do Alevels and, along with a number of his fellow pupils, eventually go on to university, which was unusual for technical school students at the time.

“He was a really good man and an inspirational teacher. Good teachers change their students’ lives and Peter did that for many of his students.

I don’t know what I would have done otherwise. I’ll always be grateful to him,” said Prof Trinick.

NOW Prof Trinick, whose research work is connected with heart disease, is no doubt inspiring young students of his own. The resulting ripple effect is that Peter, who used regularly to play cricket with his students and take them on challenging expeditions such as the Lyke Wake Walk, a tough 42-mile moorland trek which he completed 17 times, continues to make an impact.

A father of five, stepfather to five more and grandfather to more than 20, Peter’s various interests and achievements are too many to mention and he certainly packed an incredible amount into his 95 years.

But even if it was the only thing we ever achieved in our lives, most of us would feel rightly proud if we had managed to help turn just one 16- year-old lad’s life around, as Peter did John’s.

True, not everyone has the skills required to inspire a love of physics.

But we are all still capable of uttering a kind word or offering a note of encouragement when it’s needed, whether to a young mum struggling to cope or a teenager who is lacking in confidence.

A simple act of kindness can make a difference. That’s what Peter taught me.