Grantham

I went to David's funeral today, up in Grantham. Work put on a coach so many wanted to go. It was as they say "a good send off" fond tributes from his family and friends, a warm eulogy from the vicar and absolutely foul weather, funerals feel wrong in blazing sunshine and warm breezes. Fog, rain and gales should be the order of the day.

The church was beautiful, it smelt old and comforting a mix of bees wax candles, old books, dusty kneelers and incense. Having been made to go to church throughout my youth, the call and response of the service was semi familiar (it was an Anglican service not Catholic) I knew where I was and what would happen next. I can see why we have these routines in times of great emotional stress it gets us through the moment we don't have to think what to do next just follow the tracks worn by people who have gone through this before over the years.

Smells, bells, hymns, talking about the deceased and even the shrieks ands shouts of the children playing during their morning break in the school playground next door. In this northwestern European country they all make it easier to handle the dreadful.