Yesterday (Wednesday) motored across to Hertfordshire to attend the funeral of our old friend Frank. I was down to read a lesson (John 14, v.1-6- for the benefit of Crowbard who likes to know these things), and I must say, in all modesty, that the reading went well......
As I descended from the lectern however, I got down the first two steps without incident, missed the third step, tripped, staggered, recovered, and wound up six inches from the coffin (I thanked the Lord for those six inches though), managed to stop, said (quite loudly I'm afraid) "Sorry" to the coffin, but meant of course to Frank; after which the wretched man (me, I mean), feeling his position keenly, slunk back to me pew, embarrassed and a bit shaky. Frank, as Jenny his widow said to me afterwards, would have enjoyed the whole sorry episode.
We went on to the interment, and eventually returned to the Church Rooms for tea and sandwiches.Knew a good many of the mourners, including Ann's middle brother David, and his wife Mo (Maureen). Afterwards drove over to daughter Sarah's, had supper with them and spent the night there. Above Photo shows granddaughters Amelia and Lucy, daughter Sarah and son-in-law Mikey. Just being called up to supper now. More later perhaps.
6 comments:
Good job you didn't read Deuteronomy 32:35 Mike
Good one Rog. I've just looked it up and it is VERY apt :- "Their foot shall slide in due time: for the day of their calamity is at hand". That is just what it felt like. (Authorised Version, of course)
It is a fine thing Mike to know that 'the day of your calamity' is now well and truly fulfilled and has entered the realms of history (or as we used to say at school 'the reams of history'). As his widow implied, had Frank been watching your performance at any other funeral he would probably have died laughing!
You can deliver my ἐγκώμιον encomium on skates if you will, triple Salkos obligatory of course, slap-stick & prat-falls de rigeur!
Hello Crowbard. You forget that as you are a little younger than I, in all probability you will be delivering my eulogy. So I suggest you start practising your double back somersaults and cartwheels so as to be in good shape for it.
Warm regards, Big Bruv.
P.s. The way I've told the story to the grandchildren, they're already describing it as Pa doing a cartwheel down the lectern steps, knocking a trestle from under the coffin, catching one end of it to stop it hitting the floor, whilst a faint voice from the direction of the coffin says "Oy Horner! behave yourself!!! In other words the story is becoming a little exaggerated.
Whilst I invariably defer to your greater wisdom and longer reach (Ouch!), may I remind you that the day of your calamity is over, and now like Enoch you must walk with God and await your wasn'ting... Given a few more decades I'm sure I will require your services when my day of calamity dawns. (Just a few sincere words such as... 'He was a stupid kid but he meant well' would do nicely thanks.) or if your integrity could be stretched so far perhaps you might compare me to Abou....
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow men."
The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And shoed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!
Leigh Hunt (1784-1859)
Yes, I've always liked that poem.
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