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And so the day I was dreading arrived. The funeral.
Got dressed up, just like she wanted. Then got stuck in horrendous traffic, ended up sprinting from the taxi into Marylebone station, hollering “DAWNIEEEEEEEEEEE” as I went, as this was quicker than calling her on the phone (it’s a small station, I knew she’d hear me). It worked! We trained up together, boo met us in the car and we gradually met up with all the others at the crematorium.

I was all laughs and jokes until the hearse arrived with her wicker coffin. Oh yes, that shut me up alright. We filed in to the chapel, all very sombre by now. I sat with Min. I’m glad, because she kept giving me little cuddles when I cried, which was mostly. I could hear crying behind me too, but didn’t dare look round in case it made me worse. The Humanist pastor (or humourist as Kath kept calling him) was lovely, and the service was simple and all about jean’s life. I liked it a lot. Paul, her son, left before the end, it must’ve been so hard for him.

Then as we filed out again, I toucher her coffin, and that was that. A flame snuffed.

We orfed to a village pub, Margs was a star with that, and drunk to her life. Lots of stories told of a fantastic woman, and a life bloody well lived. So lovely to see so many people. Kath said to expect 20, it was nearer 70. From all over, the family from Scotland, and friends that’d travelled miles and miles to bid farewell to this awesome woman.

Me n boo n Dawnie went back to Margs’ for yet more alkihole, drove home, and had some more still. Boo really looked after me yesterday and I’m grateful. On the seesaw of life, I decided that I would not give him rules where he was expecting and asking for them. Instead, moral markers. I hope it works.

I’m very tired and still tearful today. Tonight I have to pack, and off to Amsterdam with margs, Dawnie and Lin tomorrow. Where we shall no doubt be doing foxxx toasts again.

Oh and the parting shot foxxx, that was FUCKING FUNNY! I cracked up, bloody well done you!

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maitressep
Call me Madam

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