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Monday, 28 October 2013

Northern Soul

I hate hotels. I hate their unflattering bathroom lights that expose the over large belly and the flabby arse. I hate the overheated bedrooms and the complimentary soaps. I hate the grasping "Welcome" receptions with over keen black suited, slack jawed interns offering an early call and a morning paper.

I hate their restaurants, long lonely bars and desolate car parks full of Mercs and Audis.

Here I am in Lymm: the night before the funeral, in bed at 9:40, listening to Emmylou Harris and waiting for the missus to phone.

It's a lovely place, with a gorge, picture book houses , ducks and a pond. Large Victorian/Edwardian houses built on the wealth of Manchester and Liverpool. I could live here..except I'm here because it's close to the crematorium.

They'd bigged up the storm so I expected I'd have to fight my way through crumpled bodies, felled trees and Hollywood special effects. Not a bit of it. The North Circular was clear, not a torn leaf in sight. The M1 totally oblivious and the M6 empty on the toll road, chockablock on the taxpayer's strip. And then a quick left and a short drive through lovely autumn scenes, sheep, cattle a lowing, rainbows and a stunning sky. Lymm....

Last night I monitored the strength of the wind using the sash window rattling scale. It peaked at about 4 pm. In the back bedroom I looked out on a clear, clear night, the wind having autumn cleaned away the great metropolis' detritus. In the sky unblinking was the brightest of lights. I swear it was Andromeda - our companion galaxy who we'll meld with in a mere 3 billion years time.

When I arrived at the hotel it was packed...with people of my age. At the reception I commented on the number and asked if they were here for tomorrow's funeral. No was the reply, they were here for a funeral earlier in the morning. Spooky I thought, is the hotel doing a Halloween special.

Listening to Noah and the Whale - so up beat even a banshee would smile. And tomorrow I meet my old work colleague and we'll trundle off to say our fond farewells to a life too young ended.

And we'll reflect that we've been far.


Steve said...

I'm tempted to say you are out on a Lymm... but this is no place for bad puns. Hope the funeral does your old work colleague proud.

Joanne Noragon said...

Those are tough good byes! I'm only seventy, and think back on work comrades who didn't get this far. The world would be better with them.

Marginalia said...

Dear Steve, humour is never out of place. It was a very joyous occasion. Just like Andrew.

Dear Joanne, thanks.

Anonymous said...

Dear Marginalia,
A lovely triblog to a good and much missed colleague. Thanks again for your company on the day...and for your cabbie skills. Best wishesfrom a man in Kent

Marginalia said...

Dear David......!!!!