Post by riotgrrl on Jan 30, 2009 20:20:22 GMT
So, I was at a funeral today.
It was Gothboy's Great Uncle (in his 80s and ready to go; he had stopped eating and prepared himself for death, his wife and son already being dead) 's funeral, so there was not the tragic sadness that you get at the funeral of a young person.
Wonderful.
It was a Humanist ceremony. And the Humanist person told us all Uncle Jimmy's life story; he'd been a member of the Communist Party and worked on the Shipyards at Clydebank all his life. A life story that no longer exists. Total history.
The purvey was back at the Bowling Club (where the club flag hung at half mast, apparently for the 8th time so far in 2009 given the high death rate of members. Indeed, they hired a bus for their members to attend at the Crem. It seems all the Bowling Club members spend their days attending each others' funerals.)
A super buffet of salmon sandwiches and sausage rolls, all paid for in advance by the deceased.
Because Gothboy's father (died 8 years ago) was a notorious drunk who owed money to half of the men in Clydebank, when we went through to the bar of the Bowling Club there was much growling, but we rose above it. I have an offer of marriage from a lovely green-eyed 80year old called Norrie, who was most frisky and who, I feel, would be really committed to the relationship. I'm considering leaving Gothboy for him.
I know that this is wrong of me, but I love a good funeral.
I heard such wonderful stories - the girl around from Auntie Jessie who is getting married tomorrow. She was slimmer of the year a couple of years ago and had her photos in the magazines, but since then she has put on weight. She is now on to her 4th wedding dress because she keeps outgrowing them. I love these kind of stories. I was .
And Gothboy and his brother, who do not speak, had to carry the coffin in together, and I swear they have never looked more alike. They were like non-communicating twins.
It was all a bit Mike lee, if Mike Leigh actually knew anything about working class people.
So, Stub Crouchers, tonight I want you to lift a glass to Gothboy's Uncle Jimmy - shipyard worker, Communist, Clydebank FC supporter, never took from anyone, never asked for anything from anyone - a good guy. Now dead.
Cheers.
It was Gothboy's Great Uncle (in his 80s and ready to go; he had stopped eating and prepared himself for death, his wife and son already being dead) 's funeral, so there was not the tragic sadness that you get at the funeral of a young person.
Wonderful.
It was a Humanist ceremony. And the Humanist person told us all Uncle Jimmy's life story; he'd been a member of the Communist Party and worked on the Shipyards at Clydebank all his life. A life story that no longer exists. Total history.
The purvey was back at the Bowling Club (where the club flag hung at half mast, apparently for the 8th time so far in 2009 given the high death rate of members. Indeed, they hired a bus for their members to attend at the Crem. It seems all the Bowling Club members spend their days attending each others' funerals.)
A super buffet of salmon sandwiches and sausage rolls, all paid for in advance by the deceased.
Because Gothboy's father (died 8 years ago) was a notorious drunk who owed money to half of the men in Clydebank, when we went through to the bar of the Bowling Club there was much growling, but we rose above it. I have an offer of marriage from a lovely green-eyed 80year old called Norrie, who was most frisky and who, I feel, would be really committed to the relationship. I'm considering leaving Gothboy for him.
I know that this is wrong of me, but I love a good funeral.
I heard such wonderful stories - the girl around from Auntie Jessie who is getting married tomorrow. She was slimmer of the year a couple of years ago and had her photos in the magazines, but since then she has put on weight. She is now on to her 4th wedding dress because she keeps outgrowing them. I love these kind of stories. I was .
And Gothboy and his brother, who do not speak, had to carry the coffin in together, and I swear they have never looked more alike. They were like non-communicating twins.
It was all a bit Mike lee, if Mike Leigh actually knew anything about working class people.
So, Stub Crouchers, tonight I want you to lift a glass to Gothboy's Uncle Jimmy - shipyard worker, Communist, Clydebank FC supporter, never took from anyone, never asked for anything from anyone - a good guy. Now dead.
Cheers.