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Well, I'm back.
Dec. 11th, 2005 09:37 pmTuesday was both bright and misty: driving down to Essex, looking at the countryside through a screen of pearly radiance which heightened the green, the fade-to-grey and the occasional splash of bright foliage. It wasn't foggy enough to make problems driving: we were later than we planned simply because we set off later than we planned. The idea had been to give ourselves the treat of stopping off at the Cambridge Illuminations exhibition, and we did, but arrived less than an hour before closing time (more about the exhibition later, I hope).
The funeral went smoothly, I think. The undertakers were magnificently formal: the hearse pulled away from the house at a walking pace, accompanied by three men on foot, one in a top hat walking ahead, and two (more junior?) bareheaded, one on either side. Only when we were out of the estate did they stop, bow to the coffin and get into the hearse. And when we reached the cemetery, same thing in reverse. I'd never seen this before, but I liked it: it seemed to set the journey in parentheses, to assert that it might seem just another car journey but was in fact different. The service itself - oh, well, it wouldn't have been my choice, but why should it be? I'm sure it was appropriate.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
durham_rambler's summary of his mother's life story caught something of the flavour of the person, the stories she told, and also the stories she didn't tell, because she was very modest about her own strengths and abilities.
Afterwards we went back to London with my brother. We had thought that since we won't, now, make our traditional pre-Christmas visit to London, we might stay a few days and see some friends. But the Bears (my brother and sister-in-law) were setting off on Friday morning for a weekend in York, and although we could have stayed at their house anyway, the next person we talked to was also heading north for the weekend, and we rather lost heart. Maybe we just wanted to be home.
So we enjoyed our time in London: had an evening when we were allowed to sit in on a band rehearsal, which was joyful, and a day in town to do some errands - took my camera, which has been misbehaving, back to Morgan, bought my 2006 diary from the British Library, lunched on the vegetarian buffet at Diwana, where we used to go thirty-odd years ago, scoured the Fantasy Centre and bought a couple of books. And on Friday morning we came home.
Since when we have been playing catch-up, enlivened by visits from David - to dinner on Friday on his way up to visit his mother, and again to lunch today on his way home again. Not caught up yet, but getting there...
The funeral went smoothly, I think. The undertakers were magnificently formal: the hearse pulled away from the house at a walking pace, accompanied by three men on foot, one in a top hat walking ahead, and two (more junior?) bareheaded, one on either side. Only when we were out of the estate did they stop, bow to the coffin and get into the hearse. And when we reached the cemetery, same thing in reverse. I'd never seen this before, but I liked it: it seemed to set the journey in parentheses, to assert that it might seem just another car journey but was in fact different. The service itself - oh, well, it wouldn't have been my choice, but why should it be? I'm sure it was appropriate.
durham_rambler's summary of his mother's life story caught something of the flavour of the person, the stories she told, and also the stories she didn't tell, because she was very modest about her own strengths and abilities.Afterwards we went back to London with my brother. We had thought that since we won't, now, make our traditional pre-Christmas visit to London, we might stay a few days and see some friends. But the Bears (my brother and sister-in-law) were setting off on Friday morning for a weekend in York, and although we could have stayed at their house anyway, the next person we talked to was also heading north for the weekend, and we rather lost heart. Maybe we just wanted to be home.
So we enjoyed our time in London: had an evening when we were allowed to sit in on a band rehearsal, which was joyful, and a day in town to do some errands - took my camera, which has been misbehaving, back to Morgan, bought my 2006 diary from the British Library, lunched on the vegetarian buffet at Diwana, where we used to go thirty-odd years ago, scoured the Fantasy Centre and bought a couple of books. And on Friday morning we came home.
Since when we have been playing catch-up, enlivened by visits from David - to dinner on Friday on his way up to visit his mother, and again to lunch today on his way home again. Not caught up yet, but getting there...
