There are days when it feels as if I'm in Midsomer, the only difference being that we have better memorial services. I almost didn't attend today's because I'd had an agreement with the deceased that I would only come to his funeral if he came to mine. Clearly, he has reneged on our deal.
Anyway, he had not only chosen the time and place of his own death - even though the taboo word "suicide" was not uttered once during the service - but also the method of his "disposal": a very hands-on body-in-box, box-in-hole, earth-on-top "Beerdigung" instead of cremation which leaves one wondering what happens after the curtain has been drawn.
To dispel the sadness that descends after such a morbid start to the day, we went back into town for a bit of retail therapy. Padma seemed to have got carried away - literally - because I couldn't find her anywhere. Then I remembered the age-old advice "Should you lose your wife start talking to an attractive woman. Your wife will miraculously reappear almost immediately." I did and she did! Now we're home again. Phew!
