After

A guy walks into a bar carrying a newt.
Barman asks, "What's that?"
"It's a newt, he's called Tiny."
"Why's he called Tiny?"
"'Cause he's my newt."

Never heard a funeral congregation groan like that before, but that did it. One of his favourites that was. Or, more likely, the only one deemed fitting for the location it was being delivered.

Josh had a fantastic send off today with his family, friends, the Wee County and beyond celebrating a full life cut far too short.

The town came to a standstill as the packed church emptied and the mourners snaked their way a mile in the sunshine to Sunnyside cemetery. Afterwards we all headed back down the hill again, this time stretching out even longer (there was as many people still behind at this point).

Never, ever seen the like.