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So, the next couple of weeks are probably going to have their ups and downs methinks. I have two funerals to go to, my cousin's and Fur's grandfather's (he died on Friday last, bless him, but was 86, a proper age).
I feel a bit selfish about not wanting to go. The last funeral I went to was of another cousin that had died prematurely at 32, about 6 years ago. It was in Greece and was the worst experience I have ever had. If you haven't been to a Greek funeral, you won't know what I mean. An already dreadfully tragic and upsetting event had spiralled totally out of control. Some of the family had been carted off to hospital, the atmosphere was hysterical and I found it very difficult to cope with it all. I have since found the prospect of going to another quite daunting.
Both cousins were older than myself. The kind of family members that young children look up to and nick make up from. I remember getting such a rollocking one Christmas for using up all of Lindsay's new lipstick in one night with her younger sister of my age. We were in so much trouble. She was such a pretty girl.
The other, he was a bit of a wag and could always be relied on to organise the best nights out. One Easter Sunday morning, we all pitched up at the time when the fire was being lit by the grown ups for the lambs. We had danced so much all night, that I remember carrying my shoes in one hand as my feet were too sore to even think about wearing them. Our punishment for being such dirty stop outs was to stay up and help with all of the preparations. By the time we sat down to eat, my forehead was nearly touching the table, I just wanted some sleep. It didn't stop us going out that night and doing it all over again though.