It wouldn’t be fair of me to start this page off without thanking the friends, relatives, and even people who we have never met, who rallied around at this sad time. Some of you get a mention below, but please don’t think if you don’t get a name check that we have forgotten how much kindness, compassion, love ,and practical help, you all gave. On the down side, it’s made my longing to return to Blighty even stronger.
Our thanks, Alan/Taff/Thom & Louise.
As you may or may not know, two years ago my mother got a diagnosis of breast cancer. When me and L~A saw her back in Dec 15, she was looking fine, and had actually gained weight. This was mainly due to her being put on meal replacement drinks, which gave her complete nutrition, confirming that at last, and for the first and only time in her life, she had a decent diet.
However, over the next six months the cancer spread, first to her throat, and then her stomach and bowel. I put work on alert that I may have to go back to the UK in a rush.
At the end of September I got a Facebook message from my sister Louise; “Mam’s been sent home from hospital as the doctors say they cannot do anything more for her.” I asked her to find out how long they were giving her to live; “Days rather than weeks ,” was the reply.
I told work I was pissing off for a month; “Are you taking it as annual leave?” asked my team leader. “I hardly think going home for my mother’s last days is going to be a fucking holiday,” was my answer to that bit of shite. “Oh you’ll need to get a carers certificate to have it as personal leave.”
Remember, I work in the care industry, believe it or not. I saw my GP, she signed me off for a month.
I got online and booked a flight ticket and a hire car, sweet and easy. I checked my bank account. The money I had paid out to get the flight had been paid back in. Frantically I contacted the booking agency; “Oh as you are booking an international flight with less than two days notice, we need to do extra security checks.” Fuck me pink!
I got them done without too much hassle.
L~A dropped me at Canberra airport and we had a tearful goodbye.
The following is adapted from e-mails and texts home. Some need no explaining, some I’ll add to.
From Dubai:
Flight is running 1 1/2 hours late so may be behind my predicted time getting there. Not a bad flight here, leaving Melbourne at midnight meant I got a reasonable amount of sleep. Pig of a woman with two brats sat in the isle opposite me didn’t help. They left the plane looking like a bomb had hit it, Fucking food everywhere. Anyway, just waiting for my Heathrow connection now. Love you!!
I got into Heathrow with surprisingly little bother, and picked up the hire car. I was about to drive off when the guy who had handed me the car keys pointed out that I had not put my suitcase in the boot, and it was still sat on the kerb. (I was jetlagged ok?)
Getting out of Heathrow, and onto the M4 was done without even using the GPS, a minor miracle. Getting into the fast lane of the M4, I put my foot down hard, after all I was in the “fastest car in the world, a hire car” (© J Clarkson,) and nothing happened. Nothing that is except a little warning coming up on the dash, which read; “You have reached the maximum permitted speed for this vehicle.” They’d limited it to 80 mph, the bastards. Boy, was that a “brown trouser” moment!
Just to add insult to injury, they’d also limited the radio to half volume, which meant this deaf old fucker couldn’t hear the thing.
My first email after getting to Llanelli.
Bottle of Laphrohaig, and 4 pints of great local beer 30 quid at Tesco. The pub last night was horrific, ‘ll tell you all the gory details when I’m back, the chippy was great though.
I’ll tell you about it here; I visited what used to be Mam and dad’s local, back when I was a small kid, “The Cambrian Inn.” I’d never set foot in it before. I decided to visit there in honour of mam and dad. The place smelled bad. The landlord, a fat greasy fucker, poured me a pint of Felinfoel, took my money, gave me change without uttering word. The only other people in there were two aging crones, (one of whom turned up at the funeral,) who were sharing a bottle of cheap wine, and a dog who had it’s own bed on the sofa there.
The place was an utter shithole, my pint was foul.
After about thirty minutes a group of men of the “tattooed skinhead fuckwit” variety came in. They were all drinking bottled lager, a salutary warning I would have liked before ordering the pint. Their conversations were of the; “I fucking told the fucking wanker that if the fucking cunt didn’t fucking sharpen the fuck up I’d fucking fuck the shithead. That told him!”
They hastened my leaving.
A chip shop has opened at the end of Bryn Road! Heaven.
Wynn and Jac have invited me to tea tonight, but I will not be there long.
Indeed my lovely friends Wynn and Jac invited me up for grub at their place. Jac made a great series of tortillas, and we were joined by Wynn’s father and sister Anne. Anne I hadn’t seen for decades, so it was great to catch up. Wynn’s father, the ever irascible Ieuan, informed me he had recently past his 90th birthday. So he had a laugh when I told him that he could clock up another one as “outlived her.”
I had to take my leave early as I was jetlagged to all buggery.
It was great to give Louise a chance to catch a few hours kip this morning, even if it was only due to jet lag waking me at 4. I managed a bit of chat with Mam in the periods she was awake and lucid. More importantly me and Louise have talked about how we will deal with Mam dying and the aftermath.
I think she will last a bit longer, may be as long as a week or more, she’s a tough old bird.
This was a blessing really. I chatted with mam, initially about inconsequential things, but more meaningful stuff as well. We even discussed what she wanted for her funeral.
Supper
Breakfast
Nothing to add to this morning’s chat, but I must tell you about mam and dad’s falling out and her revenge on him.
Mam told me this story, which was so out of character for her, it even had me blushing.
Her and dad had been up at the soccer club, they must have been bright young things at the time, in their late 20’s or so. I would have been babysitting my sisters at home. Some bloke asked mam for a dance, and they had been out on the dance floor for some time. When she got back to the table dad, who was most likely outside a fair amount of ale by now, was in a bit of a mood, no doubt embarrassed by the sight of his young wife dancing with another man. After all, the soccer club was where he ruled unchallenged, and held court! An argument occurred, after which mam stormed out of the club.
Dad was home before her, and obviously worried and angered in equal measure. Mam got in just after midnight. “Where the hell have you been?!?!?” he demanded. Mam replied; “I met Alan Hughes and we went down a back lane for a jump.”
She then stormed off to bed leaving him flabbergasted. “I hadn’t really,” she kindly let me know, “I’d walked down the beach and smoked half a packet of fags, as I was so pissed off with him.”
“A jump”, I had to tell her I hadn’t heard that expression for a knee trembler used in years.
Just been to the gym, they only do the 10 quid a day membership if to go with a member now. I got a 3 day free pass, and will take out a 50 quid months membership. I’ll only have to go 6 times to be up on the 10 quid a day deal. You will love my new swimming shorts, very brief, very tight black lycra. I wore them in the swimming area and two old ladies fainted. I gave myself a good hammering at the gym, I hope to be in reasonable shape when I get back.
So I spent £50.00 on a month’s membership there with the intent of getting my money’s worth. I went 18 times over the month I was there, so did save quite a bit from the £10.00 a day I was thinking of paying.
After one visit;
In the steam room afterwards I bumped into the optician who did me my first ever specs when I was just 9 yrs old, Oliver. He was ever so sad to hear about Mam, he offered to do a bible reading at the cremation. (He sufferers from religion.)
Mam’s not fussed at all.
He was persistent, and seemed genuine and kind, but then;
got prayed for at the gym, by my old optician mate.Bit embarrassing to say the least.
So I avoided him from there on in. Getting prayed over in a gym full of totty and muscle-heads was not a great ego boost at all. Oh, and if god did want me to have strength in adversity, he could make it easier by not making the old dear dead.
Also, I got chatted up in the spa bath by a GILF, though seeing its in Llanelli she was probably a GGGILF.
Oh god, I came to recognise this one. She was virtually a permanent fixture in the spa baths, so it’s lucky they have two to choose from. She seemed permanently in conversation with young men. Not unattractive for her age, but obviously predatory.
When I was signing up for the first time, a very chipper young lass, Lisa, was taking my details. She was fascinated by my giving an Aussie address, and asked why I was there; so I told her. She replied; “I know how you must feel, I lost my mother to breast cancer last year”.
Seeing as she was, at most, in her mid 20’s, it put my woes in perspective.
But from then on in, whenever I attended the gym, and she was on duty, she always had a cheerful greeting for me, and an enquiry after mam’s health. We became quite chummy. When I got back to Aus I couldn’t let kindness that go unremarked, so I filled in the feedback form on the company website, explaining how she had been a credit to the company.
I got a reply back;
Dear Alan “Taff” Thomas,
I would like to take the time to thank you for you’re great feedback. Its truly appreciated and gives me confidence I’ve had lots of praise from this from managers that I work with as well as our Area manager .Its a shame I did not see u on you’re last visit here at DW gym but I do wish you all the best in health and hope to see you in the near future.
kind
Regards
Lisa
Front of house supervisor
Mam is still getting a constant stream of well wishers, it seems to keep her going.
God didn’t she just, some were very lovely, and solicitous. Others were barking. One old dear told her; “Now that you’re home Cynthia you’re bound to get well again.” Even mam laughed at that. Dewi, Vanessa and Ryan were stars, as was Wynn, they cheered her up immensely, mainly by giving her a chance to tell them what a hopeless git I am.
I’ve just had a welsh pasty, it wasn’t too bad.
Ok, it wasn’t dire.
Supper 2
Talking food with my sister;
“I have had pasta once.” ” I think I’ve tried mushrooms, can’t remember what they are like though.” ” I’ve never had macaroni cheese or risotto” ” I don’t like …..lists everything under the sun…...” “I’ve never been to a restaurant”
Eventually I talked Louise into letting me cook for her. I made my smoked salmon risotto, it’s one of my specialities, but I normally have more leeway with ingredients for it; “Oh no, not capsicum. No chilli, not adding any shallots are you?”. She ate it, and said she enjoyed it. One down, one million more foods to go.
Mother’s impending demise surely freed her from her normal language conventions, hence;
Me: “Sorry Mam, I forgot to pick you up new nail scissors in town, I’ll get some tomorrow.”
Mam: “Oh you’re fucking useless you are!”
One evening
“The Bucket and Spade” is the name of the pub. Just down the road from mam’s. Yet another first visit for me. Sharps Atlantic, the name of the pint, very nice Cornish ale, on offer here too.
Only needs you to make it an enjoyable evening.
And it was a decent boozer. I bumped into an old school chum, John K, who I hadn’t seen since the late 70’s. He’s turned out to be a very decent and caring chap, we had quite a few beers together.
Now I’m eating welsh cakes and drinking Laphrohaig at “home”.
Wynn is up for a beer out somewhere later this week, Jamesy too.
I’m watching Jeremy Kyle with Mam. Mind you , my Mam throwing up in a jug is off putting.
Actually, she’s just fallen asleep again, so I’m watching the scum display on my own.
The guy on the stall in Llanelli market makes the world’s best Welshcakes, I went there three times. He now boasts that people come all the way from Australia to eat his Welshcakes..
Mam has had her loopy juice, (morphine) upped by the doctor as she is in pain at night. She sleeps almost constantly now. Another day with a houseful if visitors has worn her out.
If another old woman comes around here telling me about how their; “Nearest and dearest had cancer so bad his head fell off”, I’ll Fucking scream.
What is it about old biddies and competitive illnesses?
Louise’s mate who runs a catering firm had never heard of Heston!
Louise has suggested we have mam’s wake at the Bucket and Spade, I think that’s a great idea.
Just had a cold Tesco cheese pasty for breakfast.
This became a habit, one I greatly enjoyed.
I met up with Chazza for lunch. Great to catch up with him. No real news, he’s done his back in, but denies it was done humping Babs. Dogs are both not doing too clever. Babs mother is unwell so they may have her move in with them.
New fave machine is a cross between a shoulder press and a bench press. If our gym had an “all one depth” swimming pool I may be tempted to go in.
Meeting Wynn what used to be our old local, the Drovers Arms
Drinking Felinfoel bitter, which I last drank in here in the early 80’s.
Now this was odd. The Drovers had been mine and Wynn’s regular haunt a long time back. It hadn’t changed greatly, but only opens on the weekends now. Decent pint of Felinfoel there still, so all’s well. I was shocked to be informed by the bar man that he was an old Aikido mate of mine. I had, and still have, no memory of him whatsoever.
Even more shockingly, he introduced me to a huge and corpulent man, who turned out to be another old Aikido chum. The thing is that when I last saw Mark he was ultra fit, good looking, and as thin as a gypsy’s whippet. He is now about 25 stone, and has lost his looks, I only recognised him by his voice mannerisms. There but for the grace etc…
Drovers Arms
They’ve just upped Mam’s loopy juice again, will stop the pain but may speed her on.
In the cafe on Llanelli beach, having a pot if tea for two, with one mug 🙂
Yes, here while taking my seat, I managed to put one leg of the chair down a gap in a grating, and ended up flat on my arse in front of the whole cafe. Didn’t spill my tea though.
Just been chatting to a guy waking two JRs.
“You should bring yours down here, they’d love it!”
“Bit of a long trek for them mate.”
Nurse: “Do you mind if I give her an injection to stop her coughing?”
Louise: “Not at all.”
Me: “Good idea.”
Voice from person presumed sleeping: “I bloody mind!”
It was at this point I got an email from work informing me that my; “GP has put a wrong date on your carers leave form, so can you get it changed, and scan and fax it back to us please?”
Two word reply, second word “off”.
I had planned a quiet evening in, then I got a call from Jamesy.
Him: What you doing now?
Me: Sat at home watching Mam.
Him: Fancy a pint in the Bucket and spade?
Me:
Him:
I made enquiries at the Bucket and Spade, and they said they’d do a buffet for the wake at a fiver a head. I booked for 20 people.
The joys of visitors;
I have just had to listen to three of the worlds most boring people discussing the ways to maximise their duty free fags, while smoking constantly, for 35 minutes.
God, how I didn’t tell them to fuck off out of it I don’t know.
I got a shocking communication from home.
Apparently L~A and her mother were walking our four dogs on “top walk”, it’s one of the dog walks we do most often. At one point our dog Ginger, and Mary’s dog Meech, a pure bred Staffy of little intelligence, but huge hearted, were a little way off and barking excitedly at something. L~A called them off, noticing Ginger jumping back startled by whatever it was. They walked on to the car, and loaded the dogs into the boot.
Five minutes down the road, Meech gave off a howl, there was a thud, and Digby jumped out of the boot and into the back seats.
L~A pulled over to find Meech collapsed in the back. She drove to the local vets, breaking all the road rules in her haste. The vet took one look at Meech and pumped her full of anti-venom, and put her on a drip.
She died that night. Most probably from a Brown Snake’s bite. Poor bloody Mary was distraught, as was L~A.
Then things declined for mam, and, inevitably;
The nurse has said she’ll be surprised if Mam makes another 24 hrs. She hasn’t been conscious since yesterday morning, and her breathing is very laboured. She’s not in pain, so we’d be happy for her to not wake up and to pass on peacefully….
(Later)
…Louise went in at 12.30, and she was still with us, albeit unconscious. I got up for a pee at 2.00 am, went to check her breathing and she was obviously gone. Woke Louise, and we called the duty doctor. He’s just been and certified death. Louise is going to give Mam a wash soon. Its now 3.00am, and I’m watching; “Would I lie to you”.
I was so impressed by Louise, my admiration for her went up in leaps and bounds. She knew mam wouldn’t want to be in her nighty, and looking dishevelled, when the undertaker came for her. So she gave mam a wash and a change into decent clothes, “before she gets too stiff to move”.
I could not have done that, no fucking way. Not even for mam. I just wish Louise would realise how strong a person she really is, and how she shouldn’t limit herself.
At a loose end now. Louise has gone home, and I’ve the place to myself. I’ve stocked up on grub, and I still have a stock of booze, so its a day in front of the idiot box, watching Dave. I suppose I should go to the gym, but I’m knacked after being up since 2.00 am. I may take a stroll down the beach later, wish I’d brought my bloody camera now.
This day to myself is just what I need right now, chance to chill and reflect. Just went through some of my dad’s cricket and soccer mementos, may pass them into his old clubs.
Love you, miss you.
You have to laugh;
Louise just had a message to tell her that the hospital bed requested by the nurses, three weeks ago, for Mam to use at home, will be delivered this morning!
The funeral is on for the 26 th. At 4.00pm, the day before my flight back.
Great help and information from the funeral guy, Paul. He has the right attitude and great person skills. House is full of flowers and cards, mainly from pepperpots, huge bouquet from Dewi and co.
Jamesy called in and talked us through probate. May be lucky and not need to do owt, may need a trip to Carmarthen. Going to the town hall first thing to register the death. May have to ring you later or not at all.
Love you, love Bethy
And so things progressed.
Just had David the vicar around and had a nostalgia feast over the old youth club days. Lovely chap, I’m glad he’s sending her off. He didn’t mention religion once.
Mam had specifically requested David to do the service. He was the poor sod who ran the local youth club, which me and most of my Llanelli mates attended, we made his life a merry hell. He has the patience of a saint that man. It was great to catch up with him, and he was pleased so many ex-youth club boys were attending the funeral.
Paid a deposit on the buffet for the wake, 60 quid. As I’m not going to Jamesy’s tonight I may hit the gym them grab a “heat at home curry from Tesco”. They’ve got visitors coming tomorrow and Rach is away all day today
In fact I decided to get a takeaway instead, and visited a new curry house, “Sultan’s” to buy it. While there I coincidentally met with my nephew Ryan, which was a nice little bonus for me. The curry was outstanding, best of this visit home.
Terry.
I was down the beach that night, just having a stroll when Noreen phoned me. Noreen isn’t my aunt, she’s some sort of second cousin, but her and her husband Terry were incredibly influential in my upbringing. I’d been told by their son Kieran that Terry was very unwell, hence they had not been down to see mam.
Going to Swindon tomorrow. Terry is very very unwell, heart failure. Going to give Noreen some love and support.
“He’s all skin and bone, sleeps for 20 hrs a day and has a nurse come in to turn him every 4 hours. He’s rarely conscious and cannot communicate.” ” we were married 52yrs ago, our anniversary was last week. He was always my best friend.”
Sounds exactly how Mam was. Noreen is stoic but suffering. Not sure how long a trip it is, but will up and back in a day. The 3 boys are being “fan-tastic” apparently 🙂
Devastated. I said I’d come back to live here if people started dying, its happening. Will ring you before I leave, if I don’t set off at sparrow fart
And so I journeyed up to Swindon. Terry, once a big bear of a bloke, was a shadow of his former self. But still lucid and able to hold a conversation, if only a short one. I was glad to be able to tell him and Noreen what a huge influence they’d had on me as a kid.
In my family, no one did anything, at all, ever. Doing things outside of the norm, ie. everything normal people do, and; “getting ideas above your station,” was a crime on a par with arson of a primary school. But Noreen and Terry were ground breakers and had gone and bettered themselves, something unknown to and unthought of in my family. They had taken holidays, foreign ones even. They moved up in the world, bought and sold houses, getting better ones each time. Terry owned a sequence of sports cars and motorbikes, while no one in my family drove. They only moved away from Llanelli!! They were even so radical as to try Chinese, Italian, even Indian foods. This of course set my whole family in a spin; “Who do they think they are?” Or even; “They think they’re better than we are, don’t they?” Which is a crime on a par with mass genocide that one.
I also got to meet my cousin(ish) Christian, which was an unexpected bonus.
Just back from seeing Terry. He was able to chat, but obviously seriously unwell and a shadow of his former self. Such a shame to see such a force of nature of a man, a real bull of a bloke in his day, reduced to a bed ridden invalid, totally dependent on the care of others.
The journey back on the M4 was sheer hell, it should take 2 1/2 hours, it took 4! Absolutely cream crackered now. A beer and a scotch, and then bed for me.
Will ring tomorrow to sort out stuff.
Love you my wife
Just did one of the walks I used to do as an adolescent, back in my; “too young/skint to drink, too old to play soccer in the street” days. Amazing how much has changed/stayed the same. The old railway line which made up the longest part of it is now a cycle path. And all the better for that. I was so lost I had to ask if I was on it.
Going to stay with. Jamesy and Rach tomorrow night, looking forward to a proper bed!!
Then I got another shocking email from L~A:
Went to Mum’s this morning to find her in bed. “You OK, Mum?”
“I ache all over and I have a swelling on my face. I don’t think I will go to the funeral today.”
“No wonder you ache and your face is swollen. You have been bitten by some kind of spider and its fang marks are a centimetre apart. Please get to the doctors first thing this morning.” (She was reminiscent of the Elephant man. Just not quite as shocking.)
So she did. It was a spider bite. She is now on a course of anti-bioticss.
I just rang her up and she is back in bed as she is so cold she can’t stop shivering.
I think I will leave work as early as I can to go and see how she is coping. If I don’t think she is going well, I will see if she will stay at mine for the night, or whether I will stay at hers.
Aberfan, 50th anniversary of the disaster today. Loads of commemorative stuff happening.
Just spent a few hours walking on the Gower.
Visited a place I used to go fishing, when I could scrounge a lift there, back in the days when I was Alan Thomas.
There is cliff there, Cwm Ivy Tor, with a few routes on it, I didn’t try any but did take a walk up to the top of it. It’s a bit of a gutty slog, but the views from the top are outstanding, well worth the effort.
Also visited “Arthur’s Stone,” remember we took Bethy there, another nice short hike.
8 cheese pasties for 2 1/2 quid!!!!!!
I thought I’d died and gone to paradise.
Drove to Aberfan, went to the memorial gardens. As it was the Sunday after the 50th anniversary of the tragedy, the place was full of families placing flowers. Sad scenes. The number of graves of the kids killed was shocking, really brought home the scale of the disaster.
Drove to Charlie’s through the most amazing countryside, Brecon Beacons valleys. Stunning sunset.
Me and Charlie went to the Angel, inevitably. Got fell in with the locals and it ended up an 8 pint night. Not done that in donkeys years.
Charlie too fucked to cook when we got back, so we had cheese on toast, which he burned.
Slept in a real bed. Not a great nights kip as I had to keep getting up for a piss for some strange reason.
Woke at 8, thought I’d lost my wallet it was in my jacket.
Drove home through more stunning countryside.
Did more funeral organising with the undertaker. Drove Louise to Carmarthen, did the will probate. Got charged 215 quid for the pleasure.
Maybe going out with Wynn, Jamesy and others tonight.
Sorry if I’ve been banging on about not wanting to come back. I only want to be here if it’s with you though. I’m happy/resigned to returning, but looking forwards to retirement planning. I love you totally.
I’ve found the ideal birthday present for Howard! Glenmorangie single malt “A Midwinter’s Night’s Dram.” Not cheap at 64 quid, but I think the old bugger is worth it.
ETA: got it for 51 quid in the end!
Our mate Howard was to be 70 years old in a week or so’s time, and seeing as he likes a drop of Scotch, and his surname is “Midwinter” this was a real find.
Pete G is coming down tomorrow the day before the funeral, staying in a B&B. Taking me out for a curry tomorrow night, sweet of him.
Nothing much happened today. Picked up Louise and came to mam’s, did some cleaning. Took Louise home.
Went into town, bought you a small silly gift. Met an old school chum who I haven’t seen since 1975.
Went to the gym, had a good workout and sweat. (At the sportswear shop.) Found I couldn’t use my 20% discount without the voucher from the leaflet which I threw away yesterday. Nothing much worth having there in any case.
Will be meeting Pete G and other aikido club old chums for a curry tonight.
Undertaker dropped off cones for coning off outside the house. That’s about it really.
Love you, speak tomorrow.
The old school chum, Ivano, and his artist wife have opened a gallery in the town, her work is something special. In happier times I may buy one of her paintings for our house in Cornwall.
Pete had invited his son Rob out with us, and an old Aikido mate, Amanda. On sitting with us Amanda launched into a series of questions about how my “holiday was going” and which “places I was visiting”, and where was my wife. “You forgot to tell Amanda why I’m home I take it Pete?”
The curry at the “Ali Raj” was great.
Cremation went fantastic.
Huge turn out, standing room only at the cremation, loads of rellos and pepperpots, many many of my mates. Great service, nicely personalised by David the vicar with some tales of our youth club days.
Louise’s daughter and granddaughter cried from the hearse turning up till they were in the pub. Me and Louise held it together until they played Vera Lynn then we had a weep.
Wake afterwards was well attended. The catering for 20, easily fed the 50+ that turned up, and Louise took boxes of food home on top of that, money well spent.
Now back at Jamesy’s wearing his clothes. Don’t ask why.
Love you, will be back with you soon.
Yes, I was pleased as punch by the turn out, loads of my mates made the effort, young Kieran came down from London, Pete G up from Weston, and other blokes who I hadn’t seen for decades all came to pay their respects. Loads of my relatives too, (Though why some of them hadn’t bothered coming to see the old girl while she was still alive is still a mystery.) Fair play to my uncle Ernie, who at age 90 yrs came along to be with us.
Martyn D had asked to be a bearer, and got the job along with Dewi, Jamesy and Mark. In fact we had enough offers of bearers to have had three people carted in for cremation. Thanks to all who volunteered, your kindness was not unnoticed.
The service was far less painful than expected, and David the vicar even got a few chuckles by relating old youth club tales of me and the boys when we were disturbed adolescents. Louise and I had chosen “Morning has broken” and “Abide with me” for the hymns, and, as this was a Welsh funeral, the singing was outstanding. Full marks to Andrew James who has a superb baritone, used to full effect.
As the curtains were drawn, and the coffin went to the flames, mam’s last little joke was played; Vera Lynn singing “Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye.” I’m filing up again here.
There were some complaints that mam’s karaoke turn, Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” wasn’t played. To be fair, she did do a great version.
The wake at the pub was excellent, I was circumspect and didn’t drink too much, not until the pepperpots had left anyway. The food was scoffed, and I turned down more offers of pints than I have ever done before in my life.
So how did I end up wearing Jamesy’s clothes? Simple. Jamesy and Rachel had given me a bed at their place in the days after mam died, with my own front key and everything, outstandingly kind of them, if rather bad for my liver. After the wake, I ended up back at their place with only my suit to wear, so I borrowed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt off Jamesy, they were a “comfortable fit.”
The next day, the day I had a ticket to fly back, Paul the undertaker had kindly arranged for mam’s ashes to be interred with dads. We were allowed to remove the gravestone, dig the hole, inter the ashes, but not replace the headstone. Fucking H&S strikes again.
This was done, and I said goodbye to Louise, and headed off down the M4
Jamesy, god bless him, has a thing about flying. He flies a great deal, but never to Australia for some reason. No matter what time his flight is due out, he will always spend the night before in an airport hotel. So the fact that I was leaving Llanelli with only 4 hours before my flight was due out, caused something of a panic for him, (I think he was worried I’d miss it, and come back to stay at his place.)
I got a number of “concerned” emails and texts off him. I got there with nearly an hour left before my flight went out, and had time to sink a coupe of good Brit beers, my last for some time, before flying.
The flight back was uneventful, and me and L~A had a passionate reunion in Canberra. The dogs were pleased to see me.
R.I.P. Mam.
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