Little B's sendoff

LITTLE B's sendoff isn't too bad - though he doesn't escape a bit of religious drum-beating, despite his written request.

And I think he'd be flattered by the turnout - the little chapel at the crematorium is practically full - and Little B enjoyed having a bit of fuss made over him, and being the centre of attention. (Well, don't we all, from time to time?)

At the Pub later, in the Geriatrics' Corner there is an arrangement of people's photos of the man, including a couple of old ones, showing Little B as a young man. Mrs B, the retired headmistress, shows her barbed tongue by remarking: "Why couldn't I have known him when he was handsome?"

The buffet is a bit disappointing; they've catered for about forty, whereas there's closer to a hundred people here. The result is we have a couple of sandwiches, a handful of frites and a tiny bit of salad. Hardly a substantial meal.

I suggest to My Good Lady we treat ourselves to a proper meal at our favourite Cantonese restaurant, and we invite Helen to come with us. It seems appropriate, since the place was one of Little B's favourites, too.

The result is a very engaging couple of hours this evening over a very good dinner. At one point Helen asks what will become of Geriatrics' Corner gang, now that Little B has gone. "It won't be the same will it?"

And I have to admit that no, it won't in all probability. Still, who can tell? - and I quote the old Jewish joke: if you want to give God a good laugh, tell Him your future plans!

We end this sad day on a lighter note, and yes, I must say, with relief that it all over. Little B's sendoff has been hanging over us for the last two weeks; it's time we started picking up the pieces of our normal lives - whatever that happens to be now.