June 17, 2011

...a turning of us over ...

"Spring" by Szarlene -- Image Source*
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity William Penn

Perhaps it is pointless to say that funerals are not on anyone’s list of enjoyable outings. I thankfully, have not been to many and until just recently, I have never had to help anyone plan for one. All I can say is what an eye opener. There’s no need to go into details, suffice to say, I will be investigating funeral plans.

Yesterday, 16 June 2011, was the funeral for Angie’s uncle Reg. The sky was overcast, with the occasional spots of rain, but it felt like at any moment there would be a down pour. We made it to Watford Junction with no problem but while we waited for the next bus the heavens opened so it was good to have a bus shelter to stand in.

Once on the bus, we sat and watched for signs to indicate where we would need to alight. I had Google maps open on my phone, but that once again failed me. The map showed we were reaching the destination and as I reached to push the bell the bus flew past the stop we needed. There were no signs for the crematorium and the street signs, well, I have bemoaned the lack of street signs in London, so it cannot be entirely surprising that this filters out into the rest of the country.

So now, stuck on a bus, we are dropped off at a stop about a mile from where we wanted to be. We walked back to a foot bridge over the M1, and started walking back up the residential side. At nearly half way, we came to a pedestrian crossing, so we swapped sides, to be back on the side we needed. Moments later, the foot path ran out.

There was no other choice but to keep going. Picture if you will, two women, both in dresses, stockings and silly shoes, walking through the rain, with umbrellas and bouquets of flowers, in marshy, boggy, knee high grass, weeds and thistles. Picture further the trucks flying along the M1 sending up sprays of water. Image if you will how foul the language was. We must have looked a sight.

As we reached a truck pull in area, I turned to Angie and said “I wonder if anyone has called the cops to report two women walking along the M1 in the rain with flowers” and not a minute later our Good Samaritan arrived. A lady had driven past us when we were in the worst of the marshy area, doubled back and come to offer us a lift. I know. Looking back on accepting the lift, it was probably a stupid thing to do, but at that point we were so grateful to her that we took her up on the offer. Five minutes later she dropped us off in front of where we were supposed to be.

All of this was hysterically funny once it was over.

I think yesterday we had a few people playing silly buggers with us. From the stories I’ve heard, Reg was a cheeky bugger and I know Mama, Nanna, and Pop all had wicked ideas on humour. Perhaps Angie’s mum Marina, and her Nan were in on it as well. It would explain a lot. Besides, I like to think they’re all up there, gossiping, making introductions, watching out for us. It’s a comforting thought – at least for me.


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