Old-fashioned wake

Last night's snow was the worst I remember for an awfully long time. Windy conditions meant there was quite a bit of drifting, so my first task this morning was to clear the accumulated snow off the car and turn on the engine and the heater to help clear it.

That was no ssoner fiunished than I got a call from Carl confirming arrangements for the funeral of his neighbour Bernard, who'd died on Tuesday. Bernard was being brought home between 2.00 and 2.30, Carl had volunteered to be there to offer support and asked me to come along also. Fortunately the buses and the DART were functioning more or less as normal, so it wasn't too difficult to make it over to the far side of the city (at least not once I cagily managed to make my way out of the un-gritted roads and pavements close to home).

I really didn't know what to expect, since I'd never been to a wake before, but it turned into a terrific send-off. The coffin was the centre of everything, and there was no disrespect at all involved when it came to serving food from on top of it. Carl and I took the weight off Bernard's partner's shoulders by acting as meeters and greeters and waiters and barmen. Beginning with mostly family, the crowd later switched to friends and neighbours, and that's when the real hooley began. After the food, it was time for the dancing, then on to the local pub for an after-hours drink and a lifting of glasses to Bernard's memory, and then back to the house for a more rflective moment. It was 2.30 am by the time things broke up.