Friday 11th October 2019

We pick up the story at six last night,when Jools got back from work, so we could load our bags in the car, do one final check around the house and go.

We had to pack an extra bag, for our best clothes for the morning, as it was Mm's funeral.

That all done, we drove out of our street to the A2 and then up towards London, in the earl darkness, but lit by the nearly full moon.

We stopped at half seven, at Medway services for dinner of Burger King, which is OK once in a while. They have all these different burgers, but I'm sure they're all the same thing, really.

Once we were full, it was back into the car, reaching the Essex county lie out of the tunnel just as Marc Riley did my favourite part of his show, the parallel universe.

In the half hour that lasted, we reached the A12, got round the roundabout and all the way to Chelmsford, meaning it was nine.

Twenty minutes later we were in Colchester, unloading the car beside a bunch of uniformed and plain clothes police.

You aint seen me, coppa!

We check in, all very painless, so we go to our room, take off our shoes, and after a brew, try to get some sleep. But as always now, the windows in our room were sealed shut, and it was just too warm to have the duvet on. So, we both slept poorly.

Friday.

Up at six to be dressed and go to breakfast when it opened at half past.

We have fruit then a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausage and hash browns. And coffee. Lots of coffee. The guy on the table next to us was a plainclothes cop, he kept talking loudly about meeting DI this, of DS that.

We leave him to it,load the car and set off north into the wilds of north Essex and the untamed lands of Suffolk beyond.

Traffic was bad at Ipswich, but once over the bridge it was fine.

North of Ipswich, I take us through Halesworth and Bungay, a detour of 20 miles, so we can avoid the traffic in Oulton Broad, which might have delayed us ten minutes. Meaning we didn't arrive at Mum's after crossing the marshes at Haddiscoe then going up through Herringfleet to home. These are the backroads I know so well, and love.

We have time to check the mails at her house and listen to the answerphone messages, get changed and it was time to leave for the crematorium.

Past the hospital where Mum spent so much of her last few months, through a housing estate, and there we are.

First to arrive.

So we wait.

I had prepared a board with pictures of Mum through her life, to show people who only knew her in her autumn years, that she was once so full of life and laughter.

People start to arrive, they hug me, offer words of sorrow and sadness, and go to wait too.

The minister arrives, we hug too.

Nearly time.

My old friend, James and his Mum, Ros arrives. More hugs, more words.

It was time.

The hearse arrived, and she was taken out and laid at the front, Jools and I followed in.

The minister welcomes us, and we stand to sing "Jerusalem". I start to cry with the final two lines.

She says the speech I help provide inspiration for, and it is pretty good. Not hiding the ugly side, but going heavy on the good times.

We say the Lords Prayer, and she is committed. We get up and leave, the last time I will see her in this life.

We greet everyone in the room beyond, talk over our memories, before most of us drive to The Wherry where we gather again, and talk much more over coffee of a pint.

Life goes on, so people drift away, until there is just Jools, myself and Sheila.

We part, and Jools drove us out of Oulton Broad, up to Pakefield, then down the A12 to London.

Traffic was easy, so we made good time, turning off the A13 to London City where we drop the car off.

The airport is surrounded by police, we have to explain why we wanted to get to the airport. This is because of climate change protesters, yesterday they grounded a flight.

But we have no issues.

We get a taxi to take us to the UJC, easier as we have two big cases and two heacvy bags. My bag is heavy as it is full of cameras and lenses.

Its one of the new electric cabs, and is silent. Apart from the cabbies mouth. And ours, as we chat and the pain and sorrow ebbs away.

And here we are at Waterloo, in the Union Jack, just had a brew, and we will soon go out to rustle up some dinner and a bottle of wine, so to toast Mum.

And tomorrow, we fly west.