The Funeral
The funeral was as nice as these things can be.....Oxford Crematorium on a January day is never going to be the party of choice, lets face it, but we had a groovy vicar and it was very traditional as she would have wanted it.
Every one wore black, which is a good thing, in my opinion. It's respectful and also looks very chic. I want everyone to wear black at my funeral..none of this bright colours and celebrate my life shit. I'll do that while I'm alive thanks. No....if I'm in a wooden box, about to go into the cold ground or a roaring inferno, the least everyone can do is be sad for half an hour, for God's sake. I'm quite happy for everyone to go and get as pissed as farts afterwards and have a laugh, but for the sad bit, I want them fucking sad.
She had loads of flowers. We usually say family flowers only and donations to wherever, but Nanna loved flowers so everyone let rip with the floribundal tributes and I reckon she loved it. I could picture her on her cloud looking down wishing she could take a few cuttings for the greenhouse, but if she's in heaven then she'll be surrounded by them anyway. If she's in hell...well....she'll be cackling on a bonfire partying with the devil himself, talking him into a few favours to make life a bit more comfortable (like she did in the war. Rations?...bollocks to that...she still managed to get extra eggs and meat from various sources. Don't know where, you didn't ask...sort of like a modern day mate with a bit of cannabis, I guess.)
Afterwards, we went back for 'lunch' and I found myself saying 'haven't you grown?' in that irritating way that old maiden Aunts used to when I was a kid, exept this was a 6'2" cousin, who I last saw at the age of 8...so he had grown...an enormous amount!(Don't you just hate it when you realise you are turning into your mother?).
I also had a great time swaping divorce/psychotic-ex stories with the vicar, who is also divorced and has a psychotic ex. (In fact, I think he won hands down!) and he was so fab I've booked him for my own funeral, should I happen to go while he's still in business. (I'm not planning on it, by the way, but you never know). He knows to tell everyone to wear black and preferably 6" stilleto's too (only the women) and I know he'll play groovy music and say things to get everyone sobbing into their orders of service (see above).
So, in spite of it being a terrible day, it was also a very good day. It was draining but she had a good send off which is how it should be. After I had driven back to London and collected the kids, The Boyfriend came over and cooked for me while I sat in the bath with a G&T. That's why I love him so much, and will not be fucking up this relationship in any shape or form. He instinctively knew when I would need him and was there, with a smile, broad shoulder and later on much much more (which is private , you naughty people!).
Every one wore black, which is a good thing, in my opinion. It's respectful and also looks very chic. I want everyone to wear black at my funeral..none of this bright colours and celebrate my life shit. I'll do that while I'm alive thanks. No....if I'm in a wooden box, about to go into the cold ground or a roaring inferno, the least everyone can do is be sad for half an hour, for God's sake. I'm quite happy for everyone to go and get as pissed as farts afterwards and have a laugh, but for the sad bit, I want them fucking sad.
She had loads of flowers. We usually say family flowers only and donations to wherever, but Nanna loved flowers so everyone let rip with the floribundal tributes and I reckon she loved it. I could picture her on her cloud looking down wishing she could take a few cuttings for the greenhouse, but if she's in heaven then she'll be surrounded by them anyway. If she's in hell...well....she'll be cackling on a bonfire partying with the devil himself, talking him into a few favours to make life a bit more comfortable (like she did in the war. Rations?...bollocks to that...she still managed to get extra eggs and meat from various sources. Don't know where, you didn't ask...sort of like a modern day mate with a bit of cannabis, I guess.)
Afterwards, we went back for 'lunch' and I found myself saying 'haven't you grown?' in that irritating way that old maiden Aunts used to when I was a kid, exept this was a 6'2" cousin, who I last saw at the age of 8...so he had grown...an enormous amount!(Don't you just hate it when you realise you are turning into your mother?).
I also had a great time swaping divorce/psychotic-ex stories with the vicar, who is also divorced and has a psychotic ex. (In fact, I think he won hands down!) and he was so fab I've booked him for my own funeral, should I happen to go while he's still in business. (I'm not planning on it, by the way, but you never know). He knows to tell everyone to wear black and preferably 6" stilleto's too (only the women) and I know he'll play groovy music and say things to get everyone sobbing into their orders of service (see above).
So, in spite of it being a terrible day, it was also a very good day. It was draining but she had a good send off which is how it should be. After I had driven back to London and collected the kids, The Boyfriend came over and cooked for me while I sat in the bath with a G&T. That's why I love him so much, and will not be fucking up this relationship in any shape or form. He instinctively knew when I would need him and was there, with a smile, broad shoulder and later on much much more (which is private , you naughty people!).
posted by Lola2020 @ 6:43 AM
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