Clare's home run

My second funeral for the week yesterday afternoon. I was collected and driven to Thornhill by a driver I hadn't met before. His name was Nabil, an engineer, born in Lebanon, trained in Britain but spent most of his working life in the Gulf States before retiring to Cardiff. He told me his father was Lebanese Greek Orthodox and his mother Italian Roman Catholic, it was almost unheard of in their day to marry outside one's tribe before the rise of the Ecumenical Movement. How times have changed,

Thornhill's Briwnant Chapel was packed and some mourners had to stand in the lobby. Often when someone in their late eighties dies there are few mourners and many friends and acquaintances are either too ill to attend or dead already. On this occasion the number friends among the mourners matched those of the extended family. I was asked to deliver a eulogy written for me which was twice as long as usual, and then the chief mourner came forward to thank everyone for coming and give his own personal tribute, which was equally long. The service came close to over-running the assigned time slot, and it's just as well there wasn't another cortege coming in straight after.

I spoke to Clare waiting for her flight home at Phoenix airport, and then set up my phone to track the 'plane from take-off just around half past eleven to landing at twenty to ten. The home-bound route didn't pass the southern tip of Greenland, like the out-bound one, but ran further south. The 'plane was ahead of time entering UK airspace, it seemed, but had to queue over Berkshire, and as a result was twenty minutes late. It was nearly five by the time Clare reached home, drenched due to walking from the coach station "for some fresh air and exercise after the flight", having stood up well to the eleven hour flight and another five on the coach.

I was rather worse for wear however. Yesterday evening I began to get cramps in the stomach which I associate with my under-active gall bladder. It's rare this happens, as a dairy free diet reduces the demand on bile production. I'm not aware of having eaten anything to cause me this grief, except a bit more chocolate than usual and a different one. The trouble persisted nearly twenty four hours and called for lots of chamomile tea (not my favourite) a dose of Melissa compound, and very plain food. Eventually I remembered Auntie Ann's remedy - cheap supermarket tonic water, and went to Tesco's for a bottle. Thankfully it helped. I shall sleep properly tonight.