I went to a funeral yesterday, as we did the dress rehearsal for it on Tuesday. And its much the same as for any other funeral I have been too. And there is the fold A4 piece of card, with a photo showing the deceased in happier ties on the front, maybe some family shots on the back, and inside the small booklet, the service; some intro music, a hymn, a reading, a eulogy, maybe another piece of music. And that's it.
I went because, well, they seemed so insular, it seemed they had been like that forever. Shows what I know.
I was to have the car as Jools could not take the day off again, so I take her into town to pick up the bus for work. As usual there are idiots on the road, including a van who followed me into town, a few inches from my back bumper. I drop her off, then scuttle back home for breakfast. At least my allergies were only at Def Con 3, so was able to work as normal. Which was good.
But as before, I had eight hours work to do in six hours, always a challenge.
Sometimes it feels that we take one step forward and two back, so is the case this day. Frustrating, really.
Outside it was a cloudier day, not quite bad enough not to go walking, but too much work to do.
I finish at two, get changed into sobre clothes as per Tuesday, give the cats a handful of dried food as I leave, and take the car, and almost didn't make it as there was a broken down lorry on the Whitfield roundabout, and another tried to swerve around the stricken truck but I was in the way, and he saw me before I was crushed.
The crematorium was packed, not quite full, but far more people that I thought would be there. So much for me being there for moral support.
People in their funeral suits and dresses, friends and distant relations meeting up under sad circumstances.
We go in and some Mozart is playing, then there is a hymn, a reading and her daughter reads an eulogy. Turns out Barbara lead an amazing life, was a wonderful person, made clothes, married a US Air Force office, lived in England, the US, Brussels, Italy and then here. It all sounded so wonderful, but then I compared that picture to the bitter lady we, her neighbours, experienced, making Bob and Di's lives unhappy by her stance on the hdge and fence between their houses.
We walk out to the sound of Spring from the Four Seasons, and it was done.Friends from all through their lives attended, and all said nice things, I kept my council, but did say to Walter we were here if he wanted us.
And I slipped away.
I was invited to the house when I got back, but my heart really wasn't in it. I drove home, turning of the A2 to pass through Shepherdswell, Eythorne, then across the fields to Guston and home. Winter is nearly here, most leaves are on the ground and naked branches reach for the sky. By the time I was home it was nearly dark, and there were two hungry cats waiting for me.
At six I go to collect Jools from Martin Mill, crossing the insanely busy Deal road both times, then once home I rustle up a wonderful pasta carbonara and some garlic bread for dinner, all in 20 minutes.
Clever me.
I open the wine to celebrate.
We listen to Marc Riley all evening while we drink a fresh brew and eat another Magnum, because we can.
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