Intimations of Mortality

Naturally enough, what with being widowed and everything, at this time of year I tend to feel ‘intimations of mortality’, as Phil said when his mam died.

And with 2012 being Fester and my Annus Horribilis, amongst other things his brother’s sudden death, Phil’s dad Tom and my last remaining Uncle also passed away, it’s little wonder I decided to let Facebook friends know what I wanted in the event of my own demise.

 

26 September 2012 at 22:57

Having just watched Dead Good Job (BBC2 about undertakers) I have made a few decisions;

1. I want a plain wooden coffin and no embalming thank you and my ashes put in a wooden box not a plastic urn.

2. Whitley Bay Crematorium is much nicer than Tynemouth so I want to go there.

3. I want my ashes scattered in St Paul's churchyard, Manordeilo, preferably on my grandparents Alec and Bessie Boyd's grave.

4. Readings: Psalm 121 (King James bible version); Desiderata; and the Rev Eli Jenkins Prayer from Dylan Thomas’ Under Milk Wood (the last preferably read by someone with a Carmarthenshire or South Wales accent)

Hopefully no one will need this information for at least a couple of decades - but you never know.

Ms Exlibris  Noted!

Mrs Jeremy  What about hymns?!

Ms Exlibris  Can we have some Morris dancing too?

 

Since then I’ve also decided on a few other things.

Whatever I’m dressed in I want some nice warm bedsocks on, shoes are uncomfortable and I’ve no intention of going through eternity with cold feet.

I’ve change my mind about the crem: Tynemouth was good enough for Phil, his dad and Auntie Edna; the parking is easier; and it’s more sheltered from cold North Sea winds.

While people are coming in and settling down Sailing By 

(the Shipping Forecast music) should be played.

I want my coffin carried in to Park Avenue Beat (the Perry Mason theme tune) preferably by six male rapper dancers.  If my generation are too decrepit, and I hope the ones left are so old when the time comes that they are, then the next generation of Kingsmen might volunteer.

As the curtains go around and the people go out Santana’s

Samba Pe Ti; as the music gets faster they can imagine me sashaying up through the clouds.

And of course this photo on the order of service.