I'm feeling a bit sad today as I've just been to a funeral and I'm mourning the loss of a life. At the funeral, I've been invited to a christening to celebrate the new life that's been brought into this world. In the midst of life we are in death, is that how the saying goes? Well, that's how life goes.
After today's funeral, back at the house of the dearly departed, I was helping out with taking guest's coats and flinging them in a spare room, dishing out the sherry and the whisky to those who felt in need of a stiff drink and then boiling up kettles of water for strong, strong tea for those who felt in need of a stiff drink but their religion forbid it. I had to ensure that members of the same family who weren't speaking to each other weren't in the same room together so they couldn't upset one another and other guests. I had to make sure that old aunts didn't nick the sherry bottle and pour the liquid into a tea cup, pretending to everyone they'd taken to drinking tea without milk. I had to be polite and speak to people I had only met once before, at a wedding many years ago. I recognised a lot of them as they were wearing the same clothes I'd seen them in previously. Suits put away and never brought out again until they were required to perform formal duties. Black ties bought specially and then discarded. It starts you wondering. Funerals. Makes you want to take each day by the throat and squeeze it until it's dry. Live each day as if it's your last. First, your thoughts are with the dearly departed and then you start looking about and thinking about those who are still with us. There's uncle Fred straight into the sausage rolls as soon as the cellophane wrapping comes off the food. Maude's having a weep in the corner but only because she's had 6 gins and she can't see straight. The women are all sighing, drinking sherry even though they don't like it, trying not to look too upset. The men, square shouldered, handsome in their dark suits, are strong and straight backed but inside they're melting marshmallow like the rest of us. The best china is out for the 2nd time in 5 years and 3 cups and a sugar bowl get smashed, dropped from trembling hands. The silver sugar tongs go missing and everyone knows Fat Fred's put them in his pocket but no one can accuse him, not at a funeral. Aunt Beattie is kissing her sister, they're saying things like "Why do we only see each other at funerals, my dear?" and they get misty eyed and hug one another. But you know they'll never see each other again, not until the next one. The dearly departed is at rest. At peace. The lucky soul. And for the rest of us, life goes on.
Back to the London Mall