Funeral n that

So as expected Jim died. Like I've said I don't think there's anything to be sad about really, he was loved and happy and ultimately that's all that matters.

I had turned up an hour early and saw 3 funeral parties come and go before the main event.  I spent the time walking around the graves looking to see if I could find any names of friends, then I would photograph them and post them on their Facebook wall.  Is that weird?  It probably is, so it's probably best that I did find anyone.

When the right funeral party turned up I joined Kerry.  "Rocket Man" by Elton John was playing as we waited to go into the parlour (is that what it's called?) and I was smiling.  I thought it was ironic until Kerry told me it was a song that Jim used to play to his sons, and that made a small tear come to my eye.

If it is called a parlour it made perfect sense that the woman handling the service was called Trish Tidy.  Brilliant, Jim had probably arranged for a pole dancer or fancy James Bond bird to run the funeral I thought.  When she introduced himself (that's not a spelling mistake!) I realised she wasn't a pole dancer, not the type you were to find in Captain Nemos pole dancing bar in Prague any way!  Round the corner from Captain Nemos DSon and I got the chance to have sex with a monkey (that's not a joke!) maybe Trish could have worked there!  I know it's cruel, and yes she was a lovely woman, albeit with a misleading name.

During the small service Jim lay in his coffin adorned with Vauxhall insignia.  Trish called Ellen, Emma, pronounced Shnai incorrectly and then when told how it was pronounced she said it wrong again but stuck an 'a' on the end.  And most comically on the way out the donation box said "in memory of Peter Baddeley", not Jim Baddeley, Peter, his living son who was present and correct!

It was a very pleasant and happy funeral.