Friday 6 March 2009

Dearly Departed


Had a call from my dear friend Ivan. He had very kindly sent a lovely card, with his condolences, to my mother on the passing of Grandmother (dearly departed), and I thanked him most profusely. He asked about Grandmother's funeral, which had taken place last week.
I told Ivan that a long lost second cousin only recognised me because, as he put it, I was the only person there under sixty. Ivan remarked that it was a rather desperate situation that we would soon be reduced to hanging around in funeral parlours in order to look younger. 

At the funeral parlour, I met my grandmother's sisters for the first time. The sisters had not been on speaking terms due to an undisclosed incident 34 years ago. How they had managed to ignore each other on the bus to town every week is beyond me. When my grandmother (DearlyDeparted) had fallen ill, they decided to heal the rift and so it was quite something to see them all in a room together for the first time in decades.

The Great Aunts made such a picture, five of them sitting in a row. There was an awkward silence to begin with. I suppose all those years of being incommunicado does leave a lack of familiarity to draw upon. Still, my mother's cousin Susan thought it timely to launch into a monologue about her long standing bowel problems, which caused some amusement amongst those present. Not a detail was spared us, and we so recently aquainted.  Mercifully, the Great Aunts were all hard of hearing, so I think it passed them by.  I, on the other hand, was not so fortunate and am trying suppress the memory. 

The funeral went fairly well. I think Grandmother would have been pleased. It was a good turnout of Aunts and Cousins, although my mother's friend did catch Cousin Malcolm prodding each Great Aunt in turn, declaring he was checking to see if rigamortis had set in. Other than that, we all departed on good terms, fortified with sweet sherry and saying how we should all have a proper family get together, instead of meeting under these sad circumstances. I suppose that means I will see them all at the next funeral.



7 comments:

  1. Dearest Grizzy, would you have a larger version of the illustration? I've lost my pince-nez and peering at this small version is bringing on one of my turns.
    Thanks so much,
    Violet

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  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  3. Dear Violet

    As much as I feel distress at inadvertently bringing on one of your turns, I am at present unable to change the size of said illustration due to technical unawareness.

    But never fear, please do consider it done once I have mastered "The World of Blog."

    In the meantime, It would please me greatly if would you consider a very old remedy of my Grandmother's (DD) for the cureage of turns, fits and falling sickness.

    "Go hence to your local Church at midnight and creep three times under the communion table to be cured of fits."

    Of course you would have to apply to the present encumbant of the parish to unlock the door but i'm sure you would see an improvement"

    yours truly

    Griselda Primrose

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  4. Dear Violet
    I feel I must apologise for my last post. I would not want you to think that my poor grammar is the natural result of a reckless, nee, careless response.
    That last post should have read, "It would please me greatly if you would consider", not "it would please me greatly if would you consider". The latter is of course quite absurd and makes no sense whatsoever.

    yours truly
    Griselda Primrose

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  5. Oh, too late, dear Griselda. I have already written to the Times, lamenting the modern standard of grammar. How I wish I could call that letter back, knowing now, as I do, the depths of your remorse.

    Nor do I believe that the Communion Table at St Euphorbia's will do me much good. I haven't been in the place since the new, so-called, vicar arrived. Didn't I tell you? They sent us a Vicaress! I don't think I can be called a fuddy duddy, but I really don't believe that a woman has the attributes for the position. I have always felt that truly spiritual people have been marked by God in the matter of their eyebrows. Look at the Archbishop! A woman can simply never aspire to such spiritual bushiness of the brow.

    yours sadly,
    Violet

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  6. Dear Violet
    I must apologise (once more) for the tardiness of my reply. The Streatham Amateur Dramatic, Dance & Opera Society is taking up all my time at present and I fear the dummy/ghost scenario is not progressing as I would hope.
    I had not realised that your sensibilities would be so easily roused especially where grammar is concerned. Perhaps you would consider a correspondence with Mr Shakewell? ( you will find his comment on the post dated Wednesday 19th March 2009 to be most agreeable) I truly believe you would both find much in common.

    As for the sad situation at St Euphorbia's...
    My dear Violet, I understand your dismay upon learning that a female is the present custodian of your spirtual welfare. I would, however, suggest that it is preferable to have a Vicaress with sparsity of eyebrow as opposed to one with a bushy exterior. I could never trust a Vicaress with unruliness of brow. Why, it would imply that there is a course, wanton nature barely suppressed.

    Yours in earnest
    Griselda Primrose

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  7. I have always felt that truly spiritual people have been marked by God in the matter of their eyebrows. Look at the Archbishop! A woman can simply never aspire to such spiritual bushiness of the brow.
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