More goodbyes

I don't feel I've relaxed all day until the last fifteen minutes, when I fell asleep downstairs almost at the same time as I thought I needed to go to bed. It began with messages from my oldest grandchild, who has the first of her Higher exams tomorrow and had wakened up with some kind of virus and was panicking ... I tried to be soothing and practical, but it's hard with the width of the country between us. The soothing texting meant I was later getting going than intended, but I managed to get all the towels in the house into the washing machine while I had breakfast, and out before I had to leave the house.

Then we joined what seemed like everyone in the Crescent and all over Dunoon at the funeral of our neighbour Ian, who's been next door for over 40 years. The big church across the end of the Crescent was full, and was the hottest church I've ever been in - members of our church aren't used to such heat! It was our first chance to hear the new minister for the joint charges that now make up Cowal Kirk - a Zimbabwean with a taste for the poetic that is not always apparent in CofS clergy. After the service we stood around in bright sunlight chatting to other neighbours, and it was well past 11am before we were back in for a badly-needed coffee. I was too late to do any painting at my class, but I walked down to see Paddy and pay my dues - as well as pick up my previous watercolour which she'd framed for me. 

The eagle-eyed will notice that I've not made any reference to doing my morning Italian session - it went by the board early on - so I sat down and ploughed through enough exercises to make up for losing out on double points by not being early. Then I made dinner, including some defrosted brambles poached in gin from last autumn, and collapsed in a heap for a while before choir.

Choir was, thank goodness, only missing one singer tonight - my fellow first alto was laid low for the second Tuesday by laryngitis. We worked hard, so that I felt my voice getting rough round the edges (there were two big hymns at the funeral, including "Will your anchor hold" which has a suicidally - for me anyway - high couple of lines in the verses, and I felt I was singing it all alone at the time - why can't I just shut up?), but I rediscovered the part of my throat*  which always comes to the rescue and all was well. 

My blip tonight is what I saw when we emerged from our rehearsal - a wonderful full moon - is it full? - sailing over Dunoon. It's over the back of our house now, but I'm not going out to look again. Night night!

*I've just checked: it's called the nasopharynx.