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Saturday, 31 March 2007

My funeral

James' great aunt Alice passed away this week. What a terrible loss, she was a very influential part of our family and a true lady - no really, she was Lady Alice.

A colleague from work died recently, and was laid out in her wet suit, ready for one of the dives she enjoyed so much. How very embarrassing for her! I couldn't keep a straight face at the funeral home.

Words cannot express the emotion I experienced when I saw the gas bottle and mask leaning by the side of the coffin stand. If the intention was to put the air bottle on her back for eternity, it would surely cause an explosion in the crematorium, or if they intended to bury her remains with the gas bottle, perhaps they would have found it more convenient to put her in the coffin lying face down, otherwise she would just look odd in the coffin with her torso trussed up in the air.

I am led to believe that gas bottles are rather heavy, how embarrassing to have the poll bearers staggering under the weight of your coffin! Tears just rolled down my face, I thought I was going to die myself...

Darling Max became very distressed recently, when he saw one of those dreadful horse drawn black funeral carriages, galloping down Park Hall Road to Norwood Cemetery. He asked me why the baddies were taking away the dead person, and I know what he meant. It was like a scene from something by Bram Stoker, the great black feather plumes on the horses heads!

No, I would like a long sleek modern Mercedes hearse. And, I think I should be buried in my wedding dress. It is an enormous Vera Wang creation, and cost a small fortune. I shall have no opportunity to wear it again, and I did look fabulous in it, although it was an enormous dress! I would hate to have a huge coffin shaped like a Dairylea triangle...

Actually no, I think I should like my coffin to look minute, just tiny. Perhaps I should be buried in a simple black Prada shift dress with a small platinum crucifix on a chain around my neck - that puritanical look might fool the Lord himself into believing I was a modest motherly sort, although I would like a small 'viewing window' in my coffin, so that the mourners can view my fabulous shoes.

Perhaps my coffin should be white, like a child's, or wenge, and plain with no embellishments. I should be cremated secretly first actually, and have a burial ceremony for the tiny coffin containing my ashes, so that everyone can admire how small and light I will be...

I would like a selection of young choristers from Southwark Cathedral, their voices breaking with emotion as they sing. I would also like lots of speeches about how lovely I was, and lots of undignified wailing and crying, arum lilies everywhere, terribly tasteful, just like that film Imitation of life?

Did I tell you great aunt Alice left Freya an enormous white gold and 3.5 ct sapphire and diamond ring? I shall naturally be wearing it for safe keeping until Freya is twenty one ..., or thirty five. I loved Aunt Alice, what a loss.

I wonder if I could have earrings made to match?

Grandma Elizabeth is sick with grief...

6 comments:

Biby Cletus said...

Nice post, its a really cool blog that you have here, keep up the good work, will be back.

Warm Regards

Biby Cletus - Blog

antarctichousehusband said...

At my funeral, I want the renting of clothes. And I don't mean the pay-by-the-hour kind. I also want the tearing of hair and the shaking of fists, and lots of people gasping 'Too good, he was just too good for this world'. In other words, I'm after a dignity level of zero. That would make me happy (albeit dead).

RIP Lady Alice. I hope you're holding up, Dulwichmum.

AntiScam said...

Dear DM,

It sounds like such a potentially dignified affair, it seems like a tragedy that you will miss it!

dulwichmum said...

Dear Mr Antiscam,

I do know what you mean dear heart, but I will be there in spirit no doubt!

NumberOneScumMum said...

Oh you silly AntiScam! DM is so clever and mischievious I wouldn't put it past her to turn up at her own funeral (just to check the canapes of course)

Foxy Minx said...

I love a sad funeral (waterproof mascara a must - clearly) Both first and second born were choristers and dragged out at every opportunity to sing in their thin treble voices at the funerals of various relatives. This is a truly tear jerking experience with not a dry eye in the house/church by the end of it. Sometimes I think my choristers were hired just so the mourners did cry and looked as though they were grieving when sometimes I don’t think they were!