Rearranging Ducks

 

Hello all. I hope you are well. I am just at the wrong end of a week off work and will be back there on Tuesday. I have decided to not talk to you about the tree felling in the centre of Plymouth which you have embarrassingly probably seen in the National News. Just to say, the whole thing - more about political power than regeneration - trust me. 

We made a deliberate decision not to arrange to go anywhere (apart from seeing FOW1 at the beginning of the week) and the idea was to spend some time getting my head around the various parts of my life that have gone a bit awry in the past few months (i.e. getting all my ducks in a row again) and just generally having a rest. 

It all went quite well I think. I watched a couple of YouTube videos about how people reset their lives or Spring Clean it or whatever. Some people gave their jobs up and worked at kangaroo respite centres in Australia and another lady seemed to spend a lot of time sorting out skincare (she seemed to be wearing a mask that you plug in and it lights up - not sure why) and telling me how to put rollers in my hair for a professional looking"blow out". Disappointingly, I wasn't really up for this so I have spent a pleasant week relisting all my Direct Debits and cancelling a few, writing a bit, catching up on Miss Marple on the telly (Joan Hickson if at all possible) and finishing several levels on Two Point Campus on the PS4. Also, the unending saga of the smallest funeral in the world is seeming to take more planning than your average D-Day Landing. Goodness knows how people go on who have black horses, gospel choirs and pallbearers. This week it was time to sort the person officiating. We were asked if we would like a vicar or someone who would celebrate her life. This seemed a bit unfair to vicars to me. Obviously, we went for a vicar. Aged Parent used to think anyone else officiating at a funeral may not bode well in terms of the place you might rock up at in terms of eternity.

A few days later someone called Harvey Barnes rang up. ("Hello, I'm Harvey Barnes!) which was nice. I was sure he played for Leicester City but there you are. No, wait. I'm right. He is a footballer. Possibly not the same man do you think?

Harvey Barnes. (2023, March 18). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harvey_Barnes

I am trying to take into account (a) what I think Aged Parent would want and (b) the fact that there may only be three of us at this end of the operation as we are planning to take her remains up north as she requested. I am already aware that she would be distinctly unimpressed by a vicar who didn't use his title but I don't have the emotional bandwidth for that now. Harvey Barnes begins his planning.

"Are you happy to write the tribute?"

"What tribute?"

"Well, people sometimes write a tribute to be read out at the funeral."

"That's very nice, but if I wrote it, I would probably get help from HOH and FOW2 which would mean that on the day of the funeral, when you read it out, the only person who hadn't heard it before would be you."

"Ah, good point. Would you like to sing hymns?"

"Possibly, only three of us."

"Ah, yes. Well if you would like to choose some music, we can look it up on Spotify and play it on the day."

And that's been it from Harvey. Worth £245 of anyone's money. It's not his fault. he was very accommodating but we gave him very little to work with. In terms of songs, we choose Pat Boone (AP was a big fan) singing The Old Rugged Cross which made me burst into tears and Kenny Rogers singing What a Friend We Have In Jesus which was a favourite hymn. We thought of something perhaps a bit more secular but her favourite song (in her latter years anyway) was Peters and Lee's - Don't Stay Away Too Long which felt a bit off. Actually, when she was younger she was very much a hymn book under your arm and a good clap in the chorus - perhaps with a bit of a dance. However, as I said, only three of us and I'm not really sure how Harvey would be with the dancing. I didn't get that vibe from him at all.

Anyway, we are off to the beach tomorrow - hopefully - for bracing deep breaths so long as the weather plays ball. In the meantime, in the absence of a tribute, here's the scripture we have chosen for her. She always read The Living Bible and liked Psalm 16 

The Lord himself is my inheritance, my prize. He is my food and drink, my highest joy! 

He guards all that is mine. He sees that I am given pleasant brooks and meadows as my share! What a wonderful inheritance! I will bless the Lord who counsels me; he gives me wisdom in the night. He tells me what to do.

I am always thinking of the Lord; and because he is so near, I never need to stumble or fall. Heart, body, and soul are filled with joy. For you will not leave me among the dead; you will not allow your beloved one to rot in the grave.You have let me experience the joys of life and the exquisite pleasures of your own eternal presence.

Have a good week.