The Weirdness of Funerals
I went to a funeral today. Not someone I knew especially well but an old school mate with whom I had lost touch years ago but about whom occasional flickers of news would filter through and I would think, 'Ah, yes, I remember him.'
It's always affecting when someone dies early. But here's the weird thing - and do please mail me if you either agree or, conversely, if you think I'm some kind of sociopath - I come away from funerals with a huge sense of..........life!
Now, please don't misunderstand me here. I don't skip out of the crematorium chapel beaming and throwing gladioli at weeping mourners. Neither do I run around the wake in high spirits encouraging everyone to cheer up and do the conga.
But I am generally filled with a strong sense of being alive, being enormously lucky to live where I live, in good health and with opportunities aplenty. With delicious food to eat, good friends, interesting work and a great city to explore. Hopefully that makes sense.
For Christmas, one of my lovely presents (again, lucky!) was Richard Reed's excellent book of life advice passed onto him by numerous people in the public eye. It's made me think more about the world and so this year I'm going to take the advice of Joanna Lumley and be lovely to absolutely everyone in the hope that they will be lovely in return.
All except for those people who have already proved themselves to be selfish, greedy, arrogant arseholes. They can go fuck themselves. Happy 2017.