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 –