Welcome to my funeral
Good morning dear reader. Well, I think I spoke too soon when I bid you a cheery farewell last week. No, this is not my valedictory farewell. I am very much alive and kicking and enjoying life in the Yorkshire Wolds.
The weather is wonderful and the farmers for miles around are baling hay and silage like billyho. The downside of that is the spreading of muck on the fields afterwards. But if we want food, we have to grin and bear it, or dare I say it, sometimes gin and tonic bear it.
So… where are we? Oh yes, my funeral. Spouse has been putting his oar in again. On Friday, I played my guitar and sang at a funeral in my local church. I didn’t mess up and thankfully all went well. It’s a bit nerve wracking as I’m sure you can imagine, as you really don’t want to ruin a funeral or, come to that, when playing for a wedding service either.
Anyway, it must have set Spouse thinking and possibly doing a lot of it, as come bedtime he said, ‘I’ve been thinking…’ Ooer, that’s never good news. However, I pinned my ears back ready to receive his latest pearls of wisdom. ‘The thing is…’ Long pause to choose his words carefully. ‘The thing is, we don’t have an organist now, so if you die…’ Eek, where are we going with this?
‘There won’t be anyone to play at your funeral, or mine come to that.’
Glad he was thinking about his too. I think I am meant to depart first.
‘So,’ he continued, eyeballing me. ‘What you need to do is get yourself back into a recording studio and record all the hymns you would like at your funeral… and then you can record mine.’
Somewhat speechless by now, I quietly contemplated this scenario. Snuggling down under the covers I muttered, ‘welcome to my funeral.’
‘That’s it,’ he exclaimed. ‘Perfect. You can kick off with that. Welcome the congregation to your funeral.’
Really? I think Spouse needs to take a powder and lie down in a darkened room. Perhaps the summer sun is finally getting to him.
Well, dear reader, it’s time to sign off for today. I hope you have a very good week and as I woud wish for myself, stay out of mischief and or trouble. We can always hope and I hope I will still be around to tell a tale next week.
Why are you standing there? Are you trying to frighten the wildlife?
There have been some attempted car break ins and burglaries in the village. Spouse has come up with a cunning plan - ‘I know, I’ll put a photograph of you outside the doors and write beside it, “do you know she lives here?”
That will frighten them off.