Funeral

Went to my Grandad's funeral today. He was there too. I am a naughty boy. At one point, right at the end, just as people were leaving, I whispered to my brother - "look out of that window and tell me there's a God". The crematorium had a lovely view of some factory chimneys and the steam rising in the Winter chill from a landfill site...

During proceedings I made the following mental note to myself about the funeral preparations which I will never get round to doing (unless I make it into a blog - the preparations, not the funeral!!!). I said to myself: "Colin, make sure that any farewells are held in a small room - gives the illusion of popularity".

At the end of the day, I was struck by the crushing magnificence of my cousin's handshake. He is one strong, tough fucker who specialises in repairing church roofs. Earlier, he had recounted a story where a mate of his had fallen off a roof, landing on a grave. He was shaken and unscathed. In fact the most debilitating thing about the accident was when he happened to notice the name inscribed on the grave he had fallen on - it was his own name! Well fuck me...