Jason’s step father’s funeral was on Friday.
We drove down to Truro on Thursday night (after a cheering family trip to the dentist in which I find I may have to have some kind of root canal treatment – bleurgh) and pulled up just before midnight to fog and freezing weather.
We arrived to find that the room we were staying in turned out, entirely accidentally, to have been a place where Jason stayed with Terry a few years ago, and which, unsurprisingly was rather upsetting, and not fixable due to the lateness of the hour and the unavailability of any other room in the establishment.
It was not an auspicious start. There was not a lot of sleep to be had, and we were both dreading what the next day would bring.
We woke up on Friday morning to a glorious warm Autumn day. The sky went on forever and if we hadn’t had such a sad duty to perform it would have been a pleasure to be there.
The crematorium where the service took place was actually rather beautiful, and the grounds, in their lush, Cornish setting were spectacular. The fuchsias were still out in abundance and the bees were gathering nectar at a vast rate.
There are worse places to be laid to rest.
The service was, everyone agreed, what Terry would have liked and there were some lovely, personal touches.
It was as good as a funeral can be.
We didn’t stay afterwards. We had said our goodbyes, and we had a long drive home.
It was made longer by a smash on the M5 which saw us coming off the motorway and diverting via highways and byways, and resulted in a six and a half hour journey home.
Then there was that thing, where you’re shattered, but at the same time your brain won’t switch off, and you’re all jumpy, and you can’t sleep but you can’t quite focus on anything else either.
Yesterday saw Jason, Andrea and I driving down to Manchester to see Daniel Kitson in a play, which was fantastic, but a bloody long way, and which required quite a lot of logistical organising to get to.
It was tempting not to go, but he does so few things, and such short runs, and rarely repeats any of his material, and we had booked so many months ago, we felt an effort needed to be made, despite the fact we were all dog tired and could have done without it.
Baby sitters were required, and found in lovely friends who were willing to do the necessary. But this meant stripping and changing beds for people to say in, and cooking them dinner before we went because they were doing us a huge favour, and so dinner for five turned into dinner for eight, and required cooked dessert as well as a main course, because you repay kindness with kindness and you cannot see your friends unfed.
At least, not in this house.
And I cleaned bathrooms, which Jason said was unnecessary, but I believed to be quite necessary and also believe is one of the fundamental differences between men and women. i.e. that men don’t see/mind the dirt.
And that’s not to mention that homework was done, and children ferried back and forth and normal life continued and continues, bubbling through and over all this extraneous stuff that has to be done.
We are all driven out, and all emotionally wrung out, and there has been no respite and no real weekend to speak of.
Hence the lack of blog posts.
And now this big messy one that isn’t really going anywhere.