Been a busy weekend. Yesterday went to a funeral. Sheila's husband George. He was in his early eighties. It always surprises me how much you learn about people, even ones you think you know quite well, when you attend their funeral. George, I learned, started life as an East End Cockney, and became a carpenter, who did very well for himself. He married three times, and had a good many children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, all of whom attended the funeral, and were obviously very fond of him. All I really knew of him (before his funeral) was that he was a nice, restful sort of chap who it was pleasant to spend time with. He will be missed in Highdale.
The funeral Service was held in Saint Mary's Church here in Highdale. The picture above is of the South door of the Church (the main doorway). It was built in the 14th/15th century, as was the door itself. It's worn well, although there's a good deal of graffiti scribed into the door, initials, dates, etc., some of it from the mid 1700s.
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Today we have been to the annual lunch of the Mothers' Union, to which the members are expected to take their husbands. It's usually held in early January, and there's a feeling that it tends to mark the end of the Christmas season. It was held a little later than usual this year. It is held in the dining room of the Stoke-by-Nayland Golf Club. For the main course there is a choice of turkey or beef or both, followed by a good choice of puddings, and/or cheese, then coffee (or tea). I had the beef, Ann had both, then Ann had pudding and I had Stilton (and a good, mature, Stilton, it was, too). We both had coffee (one small cup thereof in my case). It was the first time since last March that I'd had caffeine. Enjoyed it, and, so far, no ill effects. It is always a good do, the post Christmas Mothers' Union Lunch. Everybody knows everyone else, there is good solid, well cooked grub, and excellent wine. Who could ask for more?
Good Night All.
8 comments:
There has been a run of funerals here - five since Christmas and another two next week.
And the final post-Christmas parties too. Russell's car club during the week and the Cyder Club wassail tonight. A whirl of activity, one way and another.
I believe I've spotted today's mystery object, Mike...
To the left of the door there is the shadow of a person with raised camera...
Could this be a close & respected senior relative I wonder? Probably of WWII vintage in a smart country outfit.... very rare, they don't make them like that any more!
Hello Z. Aren't we lucky to have a quiet, country, lifestyle?
Crowbard - full marks for spotting all details of this week's mystery object. So mysterious that even I didn't spot that there was one.
This got me thinking about my funeral. Then I remembered that a couple of years ago my younger son made a short film interviewing me and interspersed with old family photos. It
was an opportunity to correct some of the inaccurate impressions he had of the past so hopefully - when the time comes they'll get it right and I won't have to come back and haunt them:)
Pat. That is a brilliant idea, and I shall make time to try and do the same. Thanks. Mike.
"... good solid, well cooked grub, and excellent wine" sounds perfect to me too. The lunch sounds like fun.
Thank you for visiting CAPtured the Beat, and yes I agree, I didn't expect to like Little Mix very much either but I have to say they have great voices.
I've appreciated life in my body despite all the problems it has produced; but when it packs up entirely I would prefer it to be presented to a descent pack of hounds for breakfast rather than have it primped and prettied and placed in a scandalously priced presentation box to the detriment of my heirs and assigns. I, if such an entity remains as pure spirit or intellect, will have no further use of it at all! Hold a wake if you miss me, to cheer yourselves up, but don't fuss or sub-fusc over the residual detritus of my physical form.
'Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die' - but if I did, there's beggar-all you can do about it except to accept me as an already finished bar of chocolate and chuck away the wrapper with due and complete disregard.
P.S.
Despite considerable certainty of previous incarnations, I have no expectation of more to come, I believe my journey is done. Whether it ends in everlasting black unknowing or a bright new dawn in a higher state matters not at all. Life is only for the living - get on with it while you may.
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