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Melee.
It's one of those words from another language we've adopted into English because nothing we can come up with ourselves is quite as good.
It means a confused hand to hand fight. Wikipedia tells me it first appeared in 1648- just too late to be of use to the combatants in our Civil War- which saw a lot of that kind of fighting.
Someone I follow on Youtube said of the state the world currently finds itself in that "the melee is beginning".
I like it. Not the situation but the aptness of the word.
The restraints are off, orders are not being obeyed, no-one quite knows what is going on. So lets just keep banging away- and eventually the smoke will clear and then we'll see who's still standing and what flag is flapping on the ramparts....
It's one of those words from another language we've adopted into English because nothing we can come up with ourselves is quite as good.
It means a confused hand to hand fight. Wikipedia tells me it first appeared in 1648- just too late to be of use to the combatants in our Civil War- which saw a lot of that kind of fighting.
Someone I follow on Youtube said of the state the world currently finds itself in that "the melee is beginning".
I like it. Not the situation but the aptness of the word.
The restraints are off, orders are not being obeyed, no-one quite knows what is going on. So lets just keep banging away- and eventually the smoke will clear and then we'll see who's still standing and what flag is flapping on the ramparts....
Strange Days
Dec. 10th, 2024 07:31 am How much longer now till the shortest day?
Just over a week- and then the hours of daylight will start getting longer.
Strange days, these: The Syrian government- which held out so long- suddenly falls as if at the touch of a feather. The CEO of a kleptocratic company is murdered in broad daylight and people rejoice as if it were the Sherrif of Nottingham being pierced by an arrow. War is being waged and threatened here there and everywhere- and some are saying it's WWIII already. Things they're calling "drones"- that conform to no known human technology- are appearing en masse over military bases and civilian airports accross the world....
Just over a week- and then the hours of daylight will start getting longer.
Strange days, these: The Syrian government- which held out so long- suddenly falls as if at the touch of a feather. The CEO of a kleptocratic company is murdered in broad daylight and people rejoice as if it were the Sherrif of Nottingham being pierced by an arrow. War is being waged and threatened here there and everywhere- and some are saying it's WWIII already. Things they're calling "drones"- that conform to no known human technology- are appearing en masse over military bases and civilian airports accross the world....
Having The Builders In
Dec. 9th, 2024 11:06 am The builders have been in for two...three... I forget how many weeks now- re-making the kitchen from floor to roof. The kitchen is still just about usable, but when I'm in there I keep going to open cupbards that are no longer there.
Phantom cupboards.
Will they be finished by Christmas?
Dunno.
Christmas isn't cancelled but I haven't put tree up because it would just add to the clutter in a front room full of displaced kitchenalia.....
Phantom cupboards.
Will they be finished by Christmas?
Dunno.
Christmas isn't cancelled but I haven't put tree up because it would just add to the clutter in a front room full of displaced kitchenalia.....
My Grandfather
Dec. 8th, 2024 08:20 am My grandfather turned up in a dream I posted about the other day and a friend asked if I had pictures of him.
Sure I do....
Here's one of my favourites. Cyril Henry Grist as a cocky young engineer working at the Vickers armaments factory in Dartford during the Great War. Vickers did guns, they also did planes and- I'm sure- all sorts of other clever devices for killing people. I'd like to think Cyril Henry was designing planes but I've no evidence he did....
He was a self-made man. I think he was part Romany (like Charlie Chaplin). He started out poor and rose to be a director of big American engineering firm. He was domineering and very well-read. I loved him. I could write a whole lot more but as Marlene Dietrich says of Orson Welles' character in Touch of Evil, "What does it matter what you say about people?"
Here he is as I remember him. My Grandmother is on the far left and the other three ladies are her sisters, my great aunts.
Sure I do....
Here's one of my favourites. Cyril Henry Grist as a cocky young engineer working at the Vickers armaments factory in Dartford during the Great War. Vickers did guns, they also did planes and- I'm sure- all sorts of other clever devices for killing people. I'd like to think Cyril Henry was designing planes but I've no evidence he did....
He was a self-made man. I think he was part Romany (like Charlie Chaplin). He started out poor and rose to be a director of big American engineering firm. He was domineering and very well-read. I loved him. I could write a whole lot more but as Marlene Dietrich says of Orson Welles' character in Touch of Evil, "What does it matter what you say about people?"
Here he is as I remember him. My Grandmother is on the far left and the other three ladies are her sisters, my great aunts.
Off The Top Of My Head
Dec. 7th, 2024 11:32 am It seems there's an agreement between the Met Offices in Britain and Ireland to share out the naming of storms- with the consequence that half of those that come barreling through have Irish names. The one that's out there now, driving the rain and pushing the trees about, is called Darragh. I need to feed the birds but I can see that Darragh is going to give me a hard time if I step outside so I'm prevaricating.
The phone just rattled to say it had a message for me. OK, what to you have to say? Something about Colin Firth having some new movie out and I should watch it? No, thanks. Colin Firth is the British Tom Hanks; he seems to be in everything and I can't see why. Decent actors both of them, but neither of them gives me that buzz I get from watching your actual bona fide stars.
I watched a really terrible antique TV play the other day for the sole and simple reason that Patrick Troughton was in it. Troughton was only ever a small-screen star, but he gives me the buzz I don't get from the likes of Hanks and Firth.
I read most of Conrad back in the day without him ever becoming one of my favourite authors. That is changing. I loved my re-read of Heart of Darkness, I loved Lord Jim and now I'm loving Victory. The critics call him an Impressionist but he's not, he's an Expressionist. His plots are extravagant, his landscapes and seascapes hyper-real and symbolical, his characters monstrous- sometimes in a good way, more often not. Interesting fact: Victory was Joan Didion's favourite novel and every time she was going to write one herself she re-read Victory to see how it's done. Conrad is both the last of the great 19th century novelists and the first of the Modernists....
"Deny", "Defend" and "Depose": the three words incised on the bullet casings left behind by the guy who shot the Healthcare CEO. They are suggestive rather than clear- as if written in some private language- but they've got us talking, which must be what the shooter intended. How long before they start appearing on T shirts?
The phone just rattled to say it had a message for me. OK, what to you have to say? Something about Colin Firth having some new movie out and I should watch it? No, thanks. Colin Firth is the British Tom Hanks; he seems to be in everything and I can't see why. Decent actors both of them, but neither of them gives me that buzz I get from watching your actual bona fide stars.
I watched a really terrible antique TV play the other day for the sole and simple reason that Patrick Troughton was in it. Troughton was only ever a small-screen star, but he gives me the buzz I don't get from the likes of Hanks and Firth.
I read most of Conrad back in the day without him ever becoming one of my favourite authors. That is changing. I loved my re-read of Heart of Darkness, I loved Lord Jim and now I'm loving Victory. The critics call him an Impressionist but he's not, he's an Expressionist. His plots are extravagant, his landscapes and seascapes hyper-real and symbolical, his characters monstrous- sometimes in a good way, more often not. Interesting fact: Victory was Joan Didion's favourite novel and every time she was going to write one herself she re-read Victory to see how it's done. Conrad is both the last of the great 19th century novelists and the first of the Modernists....
"Deny", "Defend" and "Depose": the three words incised on the bullet casings left behind by the guy who shot the Healthcare CEO. They are suggestive rather than clear- as if written in some private language- but they've got us talking, which must be what the shooter intended. How long before they start appearing on T shirts?
"Drink and drugs aren't the problem," says the rabbi. "Rather they're the solution. The problem is alienation, social anxiety, fear of the void. And the booze and pills offer temporary respite."
"And so," I take up the argument, "Banning them is futile. If these obvious salves aren't avaliable we'll turn to those that are. Almost anything you care to name can be a focus of addiction. You can be addicted to sport, to work, to current affairs, to fame, to success,
You can be addicted to religion-
And many of these other things can do us far more harm than booze and pills...."
"And so," I take up the argument, "Banning them is futile. If these obvious salves aren't avaliable we'll turn to those that are. Almost anything you care to name can be a focus of addiction. You can be addicted to sport, to work, to current affairs, to fame, to success,
You can be addicted to religion-
And many of these other things can do us far more harm than booze and pills...."
A Side Trip To Aylesbury
Dec. 6th, 2024 10:54 am Before taking our side trip to Godstone we took a side trip to Aylesbury- a market town in Buckinghamshire famous for its ducks- which are pure white and were originally bred for their feathers. Wednesday is market day and Ailz bought a hat and a pair of gloves from one of the stalls.
Here's the market square with its clock tower
I wanted to see the church- of course- a handsome building that turns out to be largely Victorian rebuild- by George Gilbert Scott- whose work is decent and solid and characterless. One precious survival is a late medieval statue of the Virgin which once occupied a niche above the great west window- so high up that the 17th century Roundheads- who used the church as a military HQ- either overlooked it or thought it would be too much trouble to smash. It has since been moved inside.
The weather has taken its toll, but even in its eroded state it's clearly work of the highest quality. There was great art in England before the Reformation- and most of it has been lost.....
Talking about Puritans, the great parliamentarian John Hampden, who had a home nearby, is commemorated in this statue- which seems to be engaged in vigorous debate with the statue of that other great Parliamentarian, Benjamin Disraeli which stands a few yards away.
Hampden is remembered as noble and principled and brave- and a great champion of Parliamentary democracy. He died, early on in the Civil War, of gunshot wounds received at the battle of Chalgrove Field in Oxfordshire.
Here's the market square with its clock tower
I wanted to see the church- of course- a handsome building that turns out to be largely Victorian rebuild- by George Gilbert Scott- whose work is decent and solid and characterless. One precious survival is a late medieval statue of the Virgin which once occupied a niche above the great west window- so high up that the 17th century Roundheads- who used the church as a military HQ- either overlooked it or thought it would be too much trouble to smash. It has since been moved inside.
The weather has taken its toll, but even in its eroded state it's clearly work of the highest quality. There was great art in England before the Reformation- and most of it has been lost.....
Talking about Puritans, the great parliamentarian John Hampden, who had a home nearby, is commemorated in this statue- which seems to be engaged in vigorous debate with the statue of that other great Parliamentarian, Benjamin Disraeli which stands a few yards away.
Hampden is remembered as noble and principled and brave- and a great champion of Parliamentary democracy. He died, early on in the Civil War, of gunshot wounds received at the battle of Chalgrove Field in Oxfordshire.
Showing Off
Dec. 6th, 2024 08:03 am I dream my grandfather is driving his car (IRL it was a Bentley- very nice) down a long straight road and going very fast. I am in the passenger seat. He takes his hands off the wheel to light a cigarette. "Show off" I mutter. Suddenly the road is no longer there and we have come to a halt at the very edge of a cliff.....
A Pub, Pirate And A Haunting
Dec. 5th, 2024 08:26 am There were holdups, so the SatNav found us a less obvious route home via Godstone in Surrey.
Sitting in the passenger seat I googled places to eat in Godstone. The Fox and Hounds came out ahead of the pack.
Ancient pub, beams, a strong smell of woodsmoke, Harvey's on draught, pretty decent food- though the veg was overcooked- but basically rather wonderful.
And then there's the story.
it may have been emrboidered but it's basically true....
John Edward Trenchman grew up in London's docklands and went to sea at 12. The legend says "ran away to sea" but I doubt there was much running away involved. For a slum kid living by the water it would have been the smart thing to do to.
And sooner or later, by fair ways or foul, he was sailing under the greatest pirate of them all, the psychopathic Welshman Henry Morgan, who made such a success of his trade (as few pirates did) that he wound up being rough and ready with the ladies at the court of Charles II and served a term as Governor of Jamaica.
Trenchman was with Morgan at the capture of the Spanish town of Porto Bello in Panama- as great a military triumph- and atrocity- as any pirate ever pulled off. At 55 he retired from the sea and became a smuggler, transporting goods from the South coast to Croydon, through the wilds of Sussex and Surrey (and those counties were pretty wild and wooded in the late 17th century.)
One of his gang betrayed him- saving his own neck by spilling the beans to the revenue men- and the revenue men laid an ambush in the woods just south of Godstone. The engagement is known as the Battle of Tilbuster. Trenchman, mortally wounded, made his way to the nearby Fox and Hounds, collapsed in the arms of one the drinkers- and bled out.....
They buried him without ceremony in a patch of unconsecrated ground to the South of Godstone Church.
Then the hauntings began.
On the evening of the burial two grave diggers wer chased out of the churchyard by a man dressed as a sailor who popped up out of nowhere.
The frightened locals thought they might lay the ghost by putting a stone on the grave. Seven days later they found the stone smashed to pieces as if with a sledge hammer. They put another stone in place and the same thing happened. At the same time people were seeing a spectral sailor lurking among the graves- and pools of blood started appearing in front of the altar in the church.
So,
They dug up the old pirate, read the prayer book service over him, reburied him just outsde the church porch, erected a proper, fancy headstone.
And the hauntings ceased .
The headstone remains in place. The skull and crossbones was a commonly used symbol of mortality which adorns the graves of many blameless citizens- but in this case it's more than commonly appropriate.
I gather people still leave offerings- flowers and shiny silver coins.....
Sitting in the passenger seat I googled places to eat in Godstone. The Fox and Hounds came out ahead of the pack.
Ancient pub, beams, a strong smell of woodsmoke, Harvey's on draught, pretty decent food- though the veg was overcooked- but basically rather wonderful.
And then there's the story.
it may have been emrboidered but it's basically true....
John Edward Trenchman grew up in London's docklands and went to sea at 12. The legend says "ran away to sea" but I doubt there was much running away involved. For a slum kid living by the water it would have been the smart thing to do to.
And sooner or later, by fair ways or foul, he was sailing under the greatest pirate of them all, the psychopathic Welshman Henry Morgan, who made such a success of his trade (as few pirates did) that he wound up being rough and ready with the ladies at the court of Charles II and served a term as Governor of Jamaica.
Trenchman was with Morgan at the capture of the Spanish town of Porto Bello in Panama- as great a military triumph- and atrocity- as any pirate ever pulled off. At 55 he retired from the sea and became a smuggler, transporting goods from the South coast to Croydon, through the wilds of Sussex and Surrey (and those counties were pretty wild and wooded in the late 17th century.)
One of his gang betrayed him- saving his own neck by spilling the beans to the revenue men- and the revenue men laid an ambush in the woods just south of Godstone. The engagement is known as the Battle of Tilbuster. Trenchman, mortally wounded, made his way to the nearby Fox and Hounds, collapsed in the arms of one the drinkers- and bled out.....
They buried him without ceremony in a patch of unconsecrated ground to the South of Godstone Church.
Then the hauntings began.
On the evening of the burial two grave diggers wer chased out of the churchyard by a man dressed as a sailor who popped up out of nowhere.
The frightened locals thought they might lay the ghost by putting a stone on the grave. Seven days later they found the stone smashed to pieces as if with a sledge hammer. They put another stone in place and the same thing happened. At the same time people were seeing a spectral sailor lurking among the graves- and pools of blood started appearing in front of the altar in the church.
So,
They dug up the old pirate, read the prayer book service over him, reburied him just outsde the church porch, erected a proper, fancy headstone.
And the hauntings ceased .
The headstone remains in place. The skull and crossbones was a commonly used symbol of mortality which adorns the graves of many blameless citizens- but in this case it's more than commonly appropriate.
I gather people still leave offerings- flowers and shiny silver coins.....
Narcissism
Dec. 2nd, 2024 07:58 am I got backed into a conversational corner yesterday by a bully who left me no way out but submission or confrontation. I hate to be rude and hate being put in a situation where rudeness is the only defence.
The bully is taking part in an amateur panto. Won't shut up about it. I went to one of their pantos once. It was the most incompetent entertainment I've ever seen- apart that is from children's nativity plays (which are in a class of their own.)
"Are you coming?" They asked when they had me all by myself.
"No," I said.
"Why not?" they asked.
"I don't like pantos" I said. Not clever and not even entirely honest. "I don't like your pantos" would have been more accurate.
"But this will be different. It has singing and dancing, Belly-dancing, even."
"Sounds like a panto to me...."
"Well, I just wish people would support me, it has been noted. I have taken note of it"
This from someone we do a lot of running round after. Who, if you want to be petty, owes us money for taxi fares.....
Grrrrrr..... Fucking narcissists.
Have you noticed, by the way, how narcississm has become the bugbear de jour? It's all over the electronic world. "How to Spot a narcissist" "Five things that narcissists do" and so on. It'll pass.
The bully is taking part in an amateur panto. Won't shut up about it. I went to one of their pantos once. It was the most incompetent entertainment I've ever seen- apart that is from children's nativity plays (which are in a class of their own.)
"Are you coming?" They asked when they had me all by myself.
"No," I said.
"Why not?" they asked.
"I don't like pantos" I said. Not clever and not even entirely honest. "I don't like your pantos" would have been more accurate.
"But this will be different. It has singing and dancing, Belly-dancing, even."
"Sounds like a panto to me...."
"Well, I just wish people would support me, it has been noted. I have taken note of it"
This from someone we do a lot of running round after. Who, if you want to be petty, owes us money for taxi fares.....
Grrrrrr..... Fucking narcissists.
Have you noticed, by the way, how narcississm has become the bugbear de jour? It's all over the electronic world. "How to Spot a narcissist" "Five things that narcissists do" and so on. It'll pass.
Heading North
Dec. 1st, 2024 08:13 am And tomorrow we'll be buzzing up to the Midlands for another funeral.
Nice to have a car. Nice to be mobile again.
We'll be handing over Christmas presents too because we don't know what's going to be happening at Christmas itself and whether we'll be seeing any of the family then.
I wrapped the presents. I'm a lousy wrapper. We've said in the past that we'll stop wrapping things because the paper just goes in the bin and it wastes resources but we haven't had the courage yet to go against the grain.
We're going to take the journey there and back in two stages with an overnight stay in the middle. Eastbourne to Dunstable, Dunstable to Leicester- and then the same in reverse.
Nothing special about Dunstable: it just sits around the halfway mark.
Dunstable Priory is where Henry VIII finalised his divorce from Katherine of Aragon. Odd place to choose. Maybe it was safer to do it there than in London where there might have been demos against it. Dunstable Priory still stands, in a a reduced state, part of it having been repurposed as a parish church. The west front is splendiferous....
Nice to have a car. Nice to be mobile again.
We'll be handing over Christmas presents too because we don't know what's going to be happening at Christmas itself and whether we'll be seeing any of the family then.
I wrapped the presents. I'm a lousy wrapper. We've said in the past that we'll stop wrapping things because the paper just goes in the bin and it wastes resources but we haven't had the courage yet to go against the grain.
We're going to take the journey there and back in two stages with an overnight stay in the middle. Eastbourne to Dunstable, Dunstable to Leicester- and then the same in reverse.
Nothing special about Dunstable: it just sits around the halfway mark.
Dunstable Priory is where Henry VIII finalised his divorce from Katherine of Aragon. Odd place to choose. Maybe it was safer to do it there than in London where there might have been demos against it. Dunstable Priory still stands, in a a reduced state, part of it having been repurposed as a parish church. The west front is splendiferous....
A Quaker Funeral
Nov. 30th, 2024 08:20 am Quaker funerals are rare events. Trish noticed that the undertakers, sitting at the back, seemed to be paying close attention- as if they too were seeing something they hadn't seen before- and wanted to learn for future reference.
We had expected there to be a period of silence- but so many people wanted to pay tribute to Keith that it got crowded out. There were a lot of us in the chapel; Quakers, neighbours, friends. Keith had had no blood family but never mind, he had made one for himself.
Things we hadn't known before: 1. that he'd worked as a zoo keeper at Drusilla's- the theme park to the north of town. He especially loved the lemurs and the birds. 2. that when he was deputy manager at Claridge House- the Quaker retreat and learning centre- he'd been known for corralling people into impromptu circle dances. 3. That he adored Johnny Cash.
He was one of those people who live in several different worlds and maintain walls between them. I don't think he was secretive, just modest- and didn't expect people to find him fascinating. Only he was, he was.....
Another surprise was his request for his ashes to be scattered at sea. Could be that the RNLI will do it. Failing that, if the Quakers are asked to take it in hand, I'd be willing to wade out into the waves.
We had expected there to be a period of silence- but so many people wanted to pay tribute to Keith that it got crowded out. There were a lot of us in the chapel; Quakers, neighbours, friends. Keith had had no blood family but never mind, he had made one for himself.
Things we hadn't known before: 1. that he'd worked as a zoo keeper at Drusilla's- the theme park to the north of town. He especially loved the lemurs and the birds. 2. that when he was deputy manager at Claridge House- the Quaker retreat and learning centre- he'd been known for corralling people into impromptu circle dances. 3. That he adored Johnny Cash.
He was one of those people who live in several different worlds and maintain walls between them. I don't think he was secretive, just modest- and didn't expect people to find him fascinating. Only he was, he was.....
Another surprise was his request for his ashes to be scattered at sea. Could be that the RNLI will do it. Failing that, if the Quakers are asked to take it in hand, I'd be willing to wade out into the waves.
A friend introduced me to the concept of toxic optimism.
Oh bugger, and I was thinking optimism was altogether a good thing.
It's raining, raining hard- but look at me, I'm Gene Kelly! Nothing wrong with that, is there? Surely not....
Toxic optimism is when you deny someone else's pain and suffering and tell them to "get over it" and "buck up" and all that shit.
I hope I don't do that.
Oh bugger, and I was thinking optimism was altogether a good thing.
It's raining, raining hard- but look at me, I'm Gene Kelly! Nothing wrong with that, is there? Surely not....
Toxic optimism is when you deny someone else's pain and suffering and tell them to "get over it" and "buck up" and all that shit.
I hope I don't do that.
This is what our kitchen looks like
And that's why we haven't been eating lunch at home. The gaping hole on the far wall is where there used to be a sink and the impedimenta strewn across the floor is covering the trench where Damien and Louis are putting in a new drain. This morning I filled the kettle from the tap on the outside wall. When I caught myself growsing about it I reminded myself that much of the world's population doesn't have any access to running water.
So yesterday, Ailz being on a Quaker trustees training day, I found myself eating lunch alone in the Cornfield Garage- which isn't a garage any more but a Wetherspoons pub. I had the big vegetarian breakfast- which is enormous and for entertainment I was leafing through the Wetherspoons house magazine- a glossy full-colour publication which gives you entrance to an alternative universe in which happy smiling publicans celebrate anniversaries and the winning of prizes and all that sort of thing.
Earlier I'd been to Camilla's and bought myself a copy of Conrad's Victory. I'm on a Conrad jag and have just finished Lord Jim- which is tremendous. Camilla not only owns a parrot but issues personalised carrier bags (how many secondhand bookshops do that?) - and they're pink!
And that's why we haven't been eating lunch at home. The gaping hole on the far wall is where there used to be a sink and the impedimenta strewn across the floor is covering the trench where Damien and Louis are putting in a new drain. This morning I filled the kettle from the tap on the outside wall. When I caught myself growsing about it I reminded myself that much of the world's population doesn't have any access to running water.
So yesterday, Ailz being on a Quaker trustees training day, I found myself eating lunch alone in the Cornfield Garage- which isn't a garage any more but a Wetherspoons pub. I had the big vegetarian breakfast- which is enormous and for entertainment I was leafing through the Wetherspoons house magazine- a glossy full-colour publication which gives you entrance to an alternative universe in which happy smiling publicans celebrate anniversaries and the winning of prizes and all that sort of thing.
Earlier I'd been to Camilla's and bought myself a copy of Conrad's Victory. I'm on a Conrad jag and have just finished Lord Jim- which is tremendous. Camilla not only owns a parrot but issues personalised carrier bags (how many secondhand bookshops do that?) - and they're pink!
Stormy Weather
Nov. 27th, 2024 07:30 am Damian and Louis are tearing up our kitchen. Yesterday they were using a jackhammer so we got out of the house and ran errands and took ourselves over to Seaford for lunch. Ailz is going to Polegate for a Quaker trustees meeting today and I thought I'd go into town and buy books- but the stormy weather is back and I may just retire to the top of the house.
I've been asked to write and deliver a short funeral tribute to Keith. Quakers have no fixed doctrines regarding death and the afterlife (or anything else for that matter) so I'll be keeping it factual and this-worldly. Keith himself seems to have believed in reincarnation (he chose Johnny Cash singing The Highwayman as the music to be played as we leave the chapel) but the Friends in attendance will have attitudes ranging from "death is just stepping into the next room" to "once you're dead you're dead". Will there be non-Quakers there? We really don't know. Keith had friends outside the Society but no relevant family- apart from an ex-wife who is far-gone in dementia and living in a care home in Llandudno. I did many, many funerals when I was a vicar but never one- that I can remember- where there was no identifiable chief mourner.
I've been asked to write and deliver a short funeral tribute to Keith. Quakers have no fixed doctrines regarding death and the afterlife (or anything else for that matter) so I'll be keeping it factual and this-worldly. Keith himself seems to have believed in reincarnation (he chose Johnny Cash singing The Highwayman as the music to be played as we leave the chapel) but the Friends in attendance will have attitudes ranging from "death is just stepping into the next room" to "once you're dead you're dead". Will there be non-Quakers there? We really don't know. Keith had friends outside the Society but no relevant family- apart from an ex-wife who is far-gone in dementia and living in a care home in Llandudno. I did many, many funerals when I was a vicar but never one- that I can remember- where there was no identifiable chief mourner.
Black And Green
Nov. 26th, 2024 07:30 am I have two funerals coming up- one on either side of the weekend. Our Friend Keith- who kept the Eastbourne Meeting going when Covid and other things nearly destroyed it- and our son-in-law's mother- who I hardly knew. Keith was older than me, Bev somewhat younger.
I knew I had a black suit. I dug it out of the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. It's not a good fit, but it'll do. Since it's winter I'll want to be wearing a jumper under it- and all my existing jumpers are colourful going on Caribbean in their exuberance so I asked Ailz to buy me a monochrome one. I was tempted by purple- so I could play at being a bishop- but we settled on green- the colour of life.
I knew I had a black suit. I dug it out of the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. It's not a good fit, but it'll do. Since it's winter I'll want to be wearing a jumper under it- and all my existing jumpers are colourful going on Caribbean in their exuberance so I asked Ailz to buy me a monochrome one. I was tempted by purple- so I could play at being a bishop- but we settled on green- the colour of life.
