Jan 20, 2020 23:42
So, we arranged my Mum's funeral 'life story' today at a Vicarage I went inside when I was about 7 for a weird school trip where the American priest at the time showed us his shotguns (despite the recent gun massacre of schoolkids at the time in Dunblane), while insisting that he wouldn't be giving them back to the British authorities.
The service for my Mum will be performed by the Mother of a girl called Sally who was in my class at Infant and Junior school; the Minister is reassuring friendly and seemed to take a genuine interest in what we were saying and in ensuring that her words will be accurate. Very happy with a couple of hours conversation, where my Dad thanked me openly for my help, which was nice.
The 'afterparty' for my Mum's funeral will be at a pub called the John Gilbert, the last memory I have of being in there, I was about 20 and I can recall the mates I was with leaving en-masse and escaping into Manchester when we discovered that the place was full of 'Cougars' (and not the fit ones horny 20 year old lads dream of) but forty-something ladies out for a last swing at getting pissed teenagers.
It's weird what your mind dredges up, isn't it? Even weirder, it made me think what would it be like if we still lived around there. Before my mind caught up and reminded me of all the 'small town mentality' and 'huge car engines to replace tiny penis' one-upmanship there was round there.
I'm glad to know the folks I still know now from my hometown (many of which have moved out of it too) and like me now reside somewhere where seeing a person who isn't white is not a scary novelty. Even though it's less than 15 miles geographically, the difference in mentality to where I live now makes it feel thousands of miles apart.
family,
hulme,
gone drinkin',
swinton,
friends