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Sep. 16th, 2009 04:36 pmSo, I spent today at a funeral. Mum's step-dad, obviously. It has been a horrible, horrible day. Funeral itself was obviously sad - Dot cried a lot which was awful - but, um, oh dear. Please, please, when I die, do not let me have a by the number service, where we sing 'The Lord Is My Shepherd' and the vicar tries desperately to make a eulogy out of 'was a lorry driver, went on the sick, likes the telly and nowt else'. And please don't let me need a reinforced coffin and four extra pallbearers, either.
(For future reference: I want a Catholic ceremony, 'Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead' is to be played at some point and I don't care if the priest objects, and if I haven't done anything sufficiently fabulous with my life I would like lies to be made up about it. I would like to be remembered as a music virtuoso who spoke 14 languages. JUST SAYING.)
But, well, yes. That side of the family is difficult at the best of times, and Mum hasn't really spoken to them for two years. In fact, it's five or six years of indifference on my side - I tried for a bit, but then, well, what was the point? - and I spent lots of the day politely telling people that yes, I really was Julie's eldest, I really was 22, and then quietly rebutting people telling me it was time to have children. Mum spent most of it hiding in the front garden wih me as a shielf, Dad quietly sat in the corner and Megan got on famously with everyone.
We left at about midday. That said, we did leave the house at 7am to get there for 9am, so frankly I'm so tired I feel sick right now. That might also have something to do with the fact that I have spent all day inhaling cigarette smoke and not eating due to the Most Unappetising Buffet Ever. There is a stereotype of Rowley Regis, according to a friend who lives near there; as I sat watching morbidly obese (disclaimer: I do not judge on weight, some people are big and some people are small and BOTH ARE OKAY but this is in the morbidly obese-giving-yourself-diabetes camp and refusing to stop eating sugar) people smoke cheerfully in the kitchen whilst extolling the virtues of the gala pie they got as the delicatessen counter at Asda ("oooh, that's posh!" I QUOTE) and drinking lager at 11am, I can't help but think that in many aspects they're right.
Argh, this is all disjointed and weird. Sleep is definitely needed, I think. Basically, funerals are made of fail, more so when they're my family. I'm going to watch DS9, now. The Odo angst has actually made it difficult for me, as I just want to hug him and feed him stew and I can't bear more Klingon honour and familt angst/Ferengi humour episodes when all I want to see Odo happy.
(For future reference: I want a Catholic ceremony, 'Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead' is to be played at some point and I don't care if the priest objects, and if I haven't done anything sufficiently fabulous with my life I would like lies to be made up about it. I would like to be remembered as a music virtuoso who spoke 14 languages. JUST SAYING.)
But, well, yes. That side of the family is difficult at the best of times, and Mum hasn't really spoken to them for two years. In fact, it's five or six years of indifference on my side - I tried for a bit, but then, well, what was the point? - and I spent lots of the day politely telling people that yes, I really was Julie's eldest, I really was 22, and then quietly rebutting people telling me it was time to have children. Mum spent most of it hiding in the front garden wih me as a shielf, Dad quietly sat in the corner and Megan got on famously with everyone.
We left at about midday. That said, we did leave the house at 7am to get there for 9am, so frankly I'm so tired I feel sick right now. That might also have something to do with the fact that I have spent all day inhaling cigarette smoke and not eating due to the Most Unappetising Buffet Ever. There is a stereotype of Rowley Regis, according to a friend who lives near there; as I sat watching morbidly obese (disclaimer: I do not judge on weight, some people are big and some people are small and BOTH ARE OKAY but this is in the morbidly obese-giving-yourself-diabetes camp and refusing to stop eating sugar) people smoke cheerfully in the kitchen whilst extolling the virtues of the gala pie they got as the delicatessen counter at Asda ("oooh, that's posh!" I QUOTE) and drinking lager at 11am, I can't help but think that in many aspects they're right.
Argh, this is all disjointed and weird. Sleep is definitely needed, I think. Basically, funerals are made of fail, more so when they're my family. I'm going to watch DS9, now. The Odo angst has actually made it difficult for me, as I just want to hug him and feed him stew and I can't bear more Klingon honour and familt angst/Ferengi humour episodes when all I want to see Odo happy.
