Pieces of a Life

 Hello and welcome. We are still in a state of mourning here in the UK which is respectful and everything. Although, I'll be blowed if I can work out why the football had to close down while Wildwood could keep serving pizza. Some say that's because the football needs more policing than pizza restaurants to which I reply that you have obviously not seen the "Takeaway Foods From Many Lands" shop on Union Street on a Friday night. 

Today is the day before the Queen's funeral - which I have just seen some bloke on the BBC describe as "one heck of a show". Quite. I think we are supposed to spend this day in quiet anticipation but I think a lot of people have spent it panic buying food because the supermarkets are going to be closed and well -  you never know do you?

The day didn't start that well for us. HOH and I had a little bicker over a line in a chorus in church - "The darling of heaven crucified" which I think is beautiful and makes my bottom lip a bit wobbly and he thinks is a "Jesus is my girlfriend" song and rubbish. You can choose for yourselves which is correct but just to say that bitter and cynical is not a good look on anyone.

Speaking of wobbly lips or indeed, bitter and cynical, HOH and I spent some time clearing out Aged Parent's flat on Saturday. She has been assessed and Adult Social Services say she can't go back because she is a wanderer and it isn't safe. The social worker phoned me on Friday, apologising for the delay in finding somewhere for her to move to and a little concerned that she may be getting too settled in the very posh and expensive halfway house that she is in at the moment. She needn't worry. Only last week Aged Parent described it as "rotten in here" so she's not THAT settled. 

Actually, we are not that pleased with where she is at the moment. She has had COVID since last Monday and was apparently quite ill at the beginning of the week (she has COPD and a small tumour on her lung). Why "apparently," you ask? Because no one at this uber-posh care home felt it necessary to ring and tell us she was ill. We only found out when we turned up for a visit and weren't allowed in. Anyway, she's a lot better now but proof - if proof were needed - that money isn't everything or "All fur coat and no knickers" as we say up north. 

Anyway, back to the flat. It's an odd experience, clearing someone's flat when they are still alive but not able to have any input into the process. I spent most of the morning sniffling - so many bits and pieces. A Pitman Shorthand manual (she was a whizz) a brooch my Dad brought home from Canada, a well-thumbed Living Bible (her favourite version), my brother's Bible with a note in it addressed "Dear Trigg.' (his nickname). The sad thing about Dementia though is that Aged Parent will probably be more pleased to see her stuffed Uncle Bulgaria than she will any of this stuff. 

A lot of things have been said this week about a life well lived and lived to the full. I think that for Queen Elizabeth, that was much easier to achieve than for the rest of us. Obviously, being whisked all over the world, attending fabulous events wearing the best jewels that money can buy does suggest a life lived to the full. It does seem however that, for the Queen, the most precious things were family, the outdoors, servanthood and saving a few bob by always having Tupperware on hand - which is a far better balance. In the midst of a distinctly weird life, she seemed to have found her way and a contentment that was not based in the obvious. 

I'm not sure that Aged Parent always quite understands this. Not that she wants to be Queen or anything (although, for a woman who lived financially on the edge for much of her life, I'm sure a huge diamond would understandably have added a level of comfort she wouldn't have said no to). It really is the little things. The day-to-day love. These things fit together to make a life.

Anyway, tomorrow we lay the Queen to rest. I expect she is more than ready and will be glad to see the back of Holly and Phil and all the rest of 'em. I didn't quite know how to finish this but after this morning's unpleasantness around hymns, I thought I might re-print this. "I Vow to Thee My Country" will probably not be played tomorrow. I wouldn't have thought it was highbrow enough. Also, the first verse is a bit rubbish. The second verse, however, is just beautiful. It suggests something higher, quieter, holy. A different way to build a life. Have a great week.

And there's another country, I've heard of long ago,
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;
Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;
And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,
And her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace