Monday, 28 October 2013
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 spared....so far.