Funerals are difficult events and you can end up blethering inanely caught up in all the tension and emotion of the occasion. But I thought I was on safe ground as I chatted with Hen. She had come with us to a service on Wednesday to commemorate the life of my brother’s father in law who had died after a long illness. I can’t quite recall what I was talking to her about outside Salisbury Crematorium on a warm, sultry afternoon. It might have been a bit mundane I suppose. Perhaps the options for the route back to Suffolk. M3 or M4, round the M25 and up the M11; that sort of thing. But it really didn’t deserve this cruel put down in front of the assembled company of fellow mourners:
“Dave….I can feel my eyes closing a wee bit and if you carry on like this it could get dangerous….I’m standing up you know”.
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