My mother's side of the family are not noted for their organisational skills. This has resulted in one or two really dodgy funerals.
My Nana Kate's (my mother's mother) cremation was so brief that if you'd been thirty seconds late, you'd have missed it. One poem by her second husband, my step grandfather Ron. No flowers. A cardboard coffin that had been so badly varnished that 'streaky' doesn't even begin to cover it. I left the crematorium issuing instructions to my executor cousin, Sarah, that whilst I was fine with a cardboard box, it was to be an honest one with "Tesco" or "Sainsbury" printed on the side!
Roll forward several years and Ron has left instructions that he wanted the same kind of funeral. Well, my uncle Derek was happy with that; "Ron was a tight old git all his life, I'm not spending a penny more than necessary". Fair enough.
Just one teeny, weeny problem. Ron was quite a big bloke. Not particularly fat, but hefty. Take one hefty bloke, a cardboard coffin (thankfully minus the dodgy varnish), and a day when it absolutely pissed it down...... The pall bearers had a short walk, in the teeming rain, with a moisture absorbing cardboard box. A box which started to twist as they carried it. A box getting wetter by the second.
My cousins and I couldn't look at one another for fearing of corpsing with laughter.... we were mentally taking bets on whether they'd get Ron inside the chapel before the box gave out and he landed arse first on the tarmac. Thankfully, they got him in intact but it was close. Once inside, my cousins and I spread out as we couldn't look at one another. All of us were staring at out feet to avoid catching one another's eye.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. Nearly fifteen before Uncle Derek stood up and said "I thought there'd be someone here. Doesn't the crematorium send someone?". 'Er no, Derek, you're supposed to sort that out. My ribs were aching from trying not to laugh by this stage. Fortunately my cousin Sharon's hubby has the Welsh gift of the gab and threw together a hasty, off the cuff eulogy.
So, when it came to my mother's funeral today, I wasn't expected anything other than a complete debacle. Her partner, Terry, more or less railroaded my brother and me out of any involvement with arrangements despite us being the next of kin, not him.
I walked out at the end. Terry didn't get the celebrant to talk to me beforehand so whilst beautifully framed and delivered, the eulogy was littered with errors.
The first half of Terry's speech was lovely about how he felt about Mum but, as usual, he had to over-egg the pudding and turn it into the King Terry show. As for the two bloody Charles Asnomore songs and using the poem the Queen used at her mother's ceremony, words fail me! As for making us stand as a curtain went around the coffin at the end... My mother would have decried such pretentious nonsense. The grotty brown velour curtain looked like it needed a good launder. I half expected Debbie McGhee to pop out wearing her magician's assistant spangly number.
It was lovely catching up with my cousins and my Auntie Josephine though. My mum's lovely young neighbour came too so it was pleasing to be able to thank him for keeping an eye out for my mum.
My Nana Kate's (my mother's mother) cremation was so brief that if you'd been thirty seconds late, you'd have missed it. One poem by her second husband, my step grandfather Ron. No flowers. A cardboard coffin that had been so badly varnished that 'streaky' doesn't even begin to cover it. I left the crematorium issuing instructions to my executor cousin, Sarah, that whilst I was fine with a cardboard box, it was to be an honest one with "Tesco" or "Sainsbury" printed on the side!
Roll forward several years and Ron has left instructions that he wanted the same kind of funeral. Well, my uncle Derek was happy with that; "Ron was a tight old git all his life, I'm not spending a penny more than necessary". Fair enough.
Just one teeny, weeny problem. Ron was quite a big bloke. Not particularly fat, but hefty. Take one hefty bloke, a cardboard coffin (thankfully minus the dodgy varnish), and a day when it absolutely pissed it down...... The pall bearers had a short walk, in the teeming rain, with a moisture absorbing cardboard box. A box which started to twist as they carried it. A box getting wetter by the second.
My cousins and I couldn't look at one another for fearing of corpsing with laughter.... we were mentally taking bets on whether they'd get Ron inside the chapel before the box gave out and he landed arse first on the tarmac. Thankfully, they got him in intact but it was close. Once inside, my cousins and I spread out as we couldn't look at one another. All of us were staring at out feet to avoid catching one another's eye.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. Nearly fifteen before Uncle Derek stood up and said "I thought there'd be someone here. Doesn't the crematorium send someone?". 'Er no, Derek, you're supposed to sort that out. My ribs were aching from trying not to laugh by this stage. Fortunately my cousin Sharon's hubby has the Welsh gift of the gab and threw together a hasty, off the cuff eulogy.
So, when it came to my mother's funeral today, I wasn't expected anything other than a complete debacle. Her partner, Terry, more or less railroaded my brother and me out of any involvement with arrangements despite us being the next of kin, not him.
I walked out at the end. Terry didn't get the celebrant to talk to me beforehand so whilst beautifully framed and delivered, the eulogy was littered with errors.
The first half of Terry's speech was lovely about how he felt about Mum but, as usual, he had to over-egg the pudding and turn it into the King Terry show. As for the two bloody Charles Asnomore songs and using the poem the Queen used at her mother's ceremony, words fail me! As for making us stand as a curtain went around the coffin at the end... My mother would have decried such pretentious nonsense. The grotty brown velour curtain looked like it needed a good launder. I half expected Debbie McGhee to pop out wearing her magician's assistant spangly number.
It was lovely catching up with my cousins and my Auntie Josephine though. My mum's lovely young neighbour came too so it was pleasing to be able to thank him for keeping an eye out for my mum.
