Wednesday 2nd October 2019

The third dawn in Mum's house, and almost certainly, the last one i would see from the windows of her house.

The family house.

I decided to sleep with just the camber-wick bedspread on, get under that, and all was good until I got under it, and dropped it on my resting body, and a cloud of dust rose picked out in the light beams of the bedside lamp.

You might recall I am certainly allergic to house dust.

So, I took two emergency squirts of nasal spray, and did get four hours sleep, but woke at three, wide awake and congested.

That was it for sleep.

So, I lay there for a while, then got the computer out, dod some stuff, listened to some radio, so the night faded and dawn came.

I forgot the house clearers were due to return to do the garage, but Sheila (the cleaner) was due to come round before nine to collect a key. But with a stack of things to do in town, I was worried there wouldn't be enough time.

So, I loaded the car with the collection of stuff I saved from the house, then sat on the wall until nine, and when no one had come, I locked the house and left.

Once in town, first call was a key cutter to provide a spare set for the solicitor, for when the time comes to sell the house. I then go tot he post office to get a mail redirection form.

Both tasks had taken less than ten minutes, not having enough time was no longer a problem.

I go to Starbucks for breakfast, have a panini and a huge flavoured latte with an extra shot. I sit at a table in the winodw, so I could look out on the street to see if I saw anyone I knew.

I didn't.

And in the three days, I saw no one else other than those I called round to tell about Mum's passing. You would hardly believe I spent the first 25 years in the town.

At ten I went to the funeral directors to finalise the details of Mum's cremation, and fix a date.

We always assumed that it would be well into November. But they felt keeping Mum hanging around for six weeks might not be kind to her, so we agreed a very short time frame, with her cremation at Gorleston on 11th October at ten in the morning. Meaning, we leave from here on Thursday evening, drive to a hotel in East Anglia,. Spend the night there, before driving up in the morning, then driving to London to drop the car off and going to the UJC to spend another night, then on Saturday, travel to Heathrow to catch the plane to Chicago.

Wow.

Meaning we won't be thinking about the funeral when we're away, but the healing process will already have started.

A wise move in the end.

But it is going to be tight.

Once I had chosen the hymn and details, I was asked about the walk out music: both my parents loved Billy Fury, so I said Halfway to Paradise.

And just thinking of it, I began to cry. The first tears since Mum had passed.

Where did that come from?

The lady said that it happens with the emitional connection with music.

That completed, I walk back to the Journal office to put in a new notice for the funeral, but the lady on the desk, about to be fired, simply ammended the previous notice to show the funeral details, so saving me £36.

Take that penpushers!

And I was done.

I could go home.

So I walk down the High Street for the last time, past the charity shops and empty stores.

I get in the car, turn the key and move off, driving into traffic inching over the bascule bridge, then down the spine road t join the A12, and head south.

The sun was shining, it wasn't quite warm enough to have a window open, but my mood lightened, even though I was beyond tired.

Traffic was very light, so the drive to Whickham Market where the good roads start, then cruise round Ipswich, down to Colchester, Chelmsford and to the M25.

All in two hours.

Over the bridge and back into Kent.

My plan was to visit Jen, but the A2 was blocked at Canterbury. So I go down Bluebell Hill, to the other motorway, then cruise down there, pas the usual familiar route markers to Folkestone.

Jen was there with John, and it was good just to talk to people, have a relaxing brew and unwind.

At four I drove home through the narrow lanes of Pineham and Guston, then home. Where there was the usual feline welcoming committee waiting.

I feed the mogs, then make a coffee. And sit on the sofa, not having unloaded the car. Jools got fish and chip on the way home from work, I buttered some bread for chip butties, made brews, so when she arrived home, we just plated the food up, and went to eat.

We walked lots about what had happened, of course, and the details of next week. A hire car was ordered, and so all seems set for next week. I had called my boss during the day too to keep her informed, and that come 28th October I would be able to do some work, then after the two lots of training courses, back to work as normal from the 18th November, with almost all been having done.

So, I had sorted out just about everything in three days. Not a bad job, but I was drained, more tired than I had ever felt before. We listened to Marc Riley, then went to bed at nine.