From my Diary.

Sunday, 21 September 2008

I live right opposite the parish church & old cemetery, which is surrounded by a low wall. We love seeing all the goings on, christenings and marriages, funerals. Occasionally there will be the sound of horses hooves as wedding carriage draws up or a funeral hearse goes past, the horses black plumes of feathers nodding on the horses heads.
About 3 years ago my mother and I had been to posh do, followed by a concert in the church. Mum and I had our best outfits on, I looked particularly debonair with a white suit and panama hat on. My older brother was giving one of his vintage cars an airing and dropped us off in the church entrance. He likes to dress up in a dark uniform and top hat when he takes his cars out and pretends to be a chauffeur As it happened, a coach just pulled out of the church lay-by after dropping off the 52 strong Swindon male voice choir. They formed an orderly queue sat along the low wall waiting to go in to the church. When they spotted mother and me, dressed up to the nines it must have appeared that we were guest dignitaries. Without thinking I shook the hand of the first man heartily. The next man offered his hand and we were led along the line . I entered fully into the spirit and grew bold.
“So glad you could come” I announced to one man.
“What a nice blazer” I said to another. Mother looked more than usually inscrutable, brother rolled his eyes. There was .no stopping me
“ Why, I was up Swindon way just recently” I announced to one man,
“In Highworth”I added. At this the man in front of me said.
“ I am the mayor of High worth” and gave my hand another squeeze. Brother had parked his car by now and came to my rescue by hauling me and mother away to our seats.. I tilted my hat to the rest of the choir and went into the church. Mother looked at me and whispered
“Robert, you always seem to know everybody” The vicar greeted here saying “Have we met before” and she replied,
”Yes I was married here in1947”

I can report that the rest of the evening was uneventful.

They failed to include “Jacobs ladder “which I had requested as I inspected the line earlier. I suppose they would have had to rehearse it first. I always thought that life was a bit of a rehearsal.
Rehearsal For what remains a mystery.

Re: From my Diary.

You paint a lovely picturesque scene of an English Village RJ, one is temped to ask did you bump into Miss Marple of St. Marymead. I love the parish churches and the old graveyards, some of the headstones make interesting reading.
Three funerals passed my door today on the way to the church, normally you get one but in the Winter they seem to increase, most folks around here aint no spring chickens I can assure you. That's what got me thinking about coffins and polishing up on my rehearsal for that great adventure to come, when all will be revealed.
Talking about spring chickens, there's a very old lady living near me and she used to be on the stage, an exotic dancer I believe, and although she's falling apart now, she still dresses up to the nines, makeup included, and that screaming red lipstick, the rougey jaws, black stockings with seams, and one of those dead fox things around her neck complete with head attached, when I see her coming down the church steps I'm terrified she'll fall and smash into a thousand pieces, like Goldie Hawn in that film "Death becomes her"

Re: From my Diary.

Robert, I could just picture you strutting down the choir line shaking hands, a slight bow of your head and uttering a few useless words!

A brilliant story!

Re: From my Diary.

Thankyou JEM for your comments, I originally moved close to the church to save having a HEARSE. I thought a few of the lads could cart me across the road & keep it simple.
However things change,
A dear friend of mine had agreed to perform the burial ceremony, well, cremation actually. Unfortunately he died 2 years ago & we have a new vicar who is very bossy & I can't take to him. So I think I'll hang on until he is promoted to Bishop which I am sure he will.


Your lady reminds me of Madam Fifi. I came across her when I used to go up to town, 1st class, back in the 1970s. She used to hang out in Regent st at the Cafe Royal or sometimes in the Rainbow rOom in Derry & Toms in South Kensington.
She married a Sheik & disappeared one day. Now I know where she went.

Re: From my Diary.

Thank you Mags. You have got me off to a T.

I thought I had lost my touch !

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In fact I'm beginning to think that you and Jem would make a great double act!

Re: From my Diary.

JUly 2007 from my diary

My Long suffering wife

I met my wife when we were working in a posh department store in 1967. She was a vision of loveliness, pure glamour and femininity. Ash blonde, like the film star Shirley Eaton. I know it was ash blonde because after we married in 1972 I saw ASH Blonde written on the label of the hair dye bottles
.
My wife, Gill, had been married to me for 27 years when I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. It was a bit of a shock to me, but being a nurse, Gill had seen the symptoms for some time and the consultant’s diagnosis merely confirmed her suspicions. Earlier this year we went shopping in a posh store. Gill wandered off and left me.
I did genuinely feel a bit faint and was happy for a dear lady sales assistant to find me a seat and chat to me, all the while grasping my hand firmly, and quite tenderly I thought.

After a short while Gill came striding towards me. I signalled for her to go away.A few moments passed. I murmured weakly to ask that blonde lady over there if she was my wife? Gill sighed and led me away for a cup of tea and a slice of cake.

We went to a different posh store the following week and I found myself. Alone again.I felt faint. I really did! When Gill came back to find me in a chair being comforted by a dear sales lady she walked right past me.When asked by the assistant if she was my wife, she looked, I thought, genuinely surprised and snorted.

“I’ve never seen him before in my life” I can’t say I blame her.

Re: From my Diary.

Pushing your luck there RJ, but the good nurse has you figured out.
I remember the very first time a girl held my hand, her mother was a great friend of my mother and I had occasion the travel by bus across the city to the dental clinic, I was 12 at the time and this was a big thing for me, my mother in her wisdom decided to have the girl accompany me as she was a young lady of 13 and far wiser to the world than I was, when she called for me she took me by the hand saying to my mother "Don't you worry Mrs Jem, he's in good hands with me", spoken like a true hospital matron I thought. Christ I was mortified all the way across town, she only let go of my sweaty hand to get the bus fare out of her bag, then the conductor looked at me and said, "Taking the girlfriend out for the day are we sonny", then he started laughing and the other passengers joined in. I tried to do a bunk on the way back saying I wanted to use the toilet in the clinic, she said that would be OK, she's wait on the seat outside the toilet door, where was God in his mercy I asked myself. Home I thought I'd never get, I still get hot under the collar when I think of it all those years ago.

Re: From my Diary.

You met Sonia Umperville too then Jem.

Re: From my Diary.

You two Mags is so right, a double act. Every day you both make me giggle. What a treat