Its Tuesday and I wake up knowing today I shall be going to a funereal. I’m just about coming into consciousness when my phone rings and a friend is on the line on the way to the M.O.T station. We have the luxury of being able to chat for a long time and catch up with how we are both coping with our situations. Its good and helpful to compare notes and to hear how things are moving forward. I find it very supportive and helpful when I am able to have these conversations. We say farewell and I get up to make breakfast and to get my funereal clothes out and ready.
As I am tucking into my muesli there is a familiar thrump of a package being dumped in the porch. I retrieve the package and immediately know what it is. It is another book from my friend who is sending me books to feed my brain. Its a new book to me and a new author so I am excited. My initial thought was to read tonight but I am intrigued by this book prologue and so I start to read.
I read and find myself finding it easy to read and then suddenly its lunch time and I am eating bacon bagels with my partner. Its time to get my funereal clothes on. On these occasions I am old fashioned and tend towards the formal black. A sort of Sunday best approach. I think it stems from a sense of being respectful, I guess its a generational thing. Anyway I get into my three piece suit, a tight squeeze these days, and rig up with watch chain and overcoat. Its a strange combination, formal black and a white pony tail, but if I am honest I think I do it pretty well.
I drive my partner and I to the crematorium, a relatively short drive to a village where I first lived. We arrive in plenty of time and we both spend time looking at our phones and my partner tries to spot people she knows arriving. It turns out that quite a few of the attendees are known to my partner through old work associations. We go into the crematorium waiting area and talk to some of my partners old work colleagues. Then the hearse arrives with the daughter riding pillion, yes riding pillion. The funerealee was a keen motorbike so the hearse is a motor bike and sidecar. We were encouraged to take photographs so here is the hearse.
The funereal is not a religious service and full of readings. It is always difficult to be in a funereal where there is no direct connection but there is always a sense of discovery of someone’s life and an appreciation of all the things that they would have seen in their life. There is no such thing as an ordinary life only ordinary uniqueness.
At the end of the funereal and the polite well wishing and invitations I drive my partner and I to the local Next where we have coffee and pastries. We peruse rugs and sofas and pick out possibilities, but hang fire for consideration and research. We drive home put the bin out and I change into my training kit and make my way to the garage to row for 45 minutes. Its cold, I can see my breathe as I strap up to row.
The session over I return to the house and record it in my diet and training journal. I then settle down to watch a football match followed by a film about the abduction of a child. My partner and I eat tea while we watch. Night meds were followed by bed and more of my new book. Its been an unusual but thoughtful day.
