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Another One Bites The Dust

Last Thursday I went to my aunt's funeral. The burial was in Skipton. The cemetery was an open field full of sheep droppings. It was a fascinating day.

Connie , my aunt was the last of my father's siblings. She was the youngest and died mid September at the age of 89. My half brother Mark texted me to say that he was going to see her in Leeds and that she was on the way out. Janet my cousin also texted me to ask if I was going to the funeral and if so would I phone Pippa who was coming up from London.

This threw me as my first wife was called Pippa and we'd been divorced nearly 30 years. I couldn't think why she'd be going to my aunt's funeral. My cousin Nic phoned. He was going to say his last respects to my aunt and if I was going he'd pick me up at Skipton station. The cemetery (aka field) was some way out of town on the edge of the North York Moors. Janet reassured me that this Pippa wasn't that Pippa but the daughter of her brother Michael. I text…

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