Diary – Saturday

My neighbour died last week – I’d known him for 30-odd years – a young lad of 59 – I went to his funeral last Thursday – a celebration of his life, I should say – and very nice that was, too.

Last weekend, I went to a religious do.

I’m an atheist, I should say.

Though I believe in an afterlife – don’t want things too grim.

No.  Don’t ask me to discuss that just now –

But I have my stream of dead people at my right shoulder, and I’m beginning to think I must be making up my people myself – even people I don’t want jostle there, trying to get a word in –

Well – there’s been one –

Let him through!

Yes.  The religious do – me wondering if I should stop singing the hymns at last at these events, looking up and catching the eye of the Catholic priest – so jovial he was! – and me not singing at that point – and looking down to avoid that eye –

No!  No!  Don’t bow your head as if in shame at a Godly-guy!

Look straight on!

It was a strain.

It was all a strain, I can tell you – and you go out in your stream and shake his hand – “Thank you for the lovely service,” you say – like a kid, like a kid –

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