17 July 2014 (Thursday) - Goodbye Malcolm
On May 14 one of my Facebook Friends posted something about wine. He wrote "Cheap wine is good! It reminds me why I pay that bit extra. Wine is a living, breathing creation. It should not reek of sulphides and other chemicals. It should not be homogenised, acidic or a means to an end. It should be unique, reminding one of geography and history. It should explode in the mouth, should taste of sunshine and nature and love, and bring a smile to the face." Over last weekend whilst we were camping I had a glass of wine with him. I had ben looking forward to tasting a wine he recommended. It was a nice enough wine, but in all honesty I couldn't taste any difference between that expensive red wine and the bottle we had last night which cost £3.80 from Morrison's cheapo section.
A glass or two of plonk is usually somewhat soporific; but I did wake with a start when "Furry Face TM" had a woofing fit at 2.55am. I then dozed fitfully before giving up trying to sleep at 5.30am. Over brekkie (much of which was eaten by my dog) I watched a documentary about new recruits joining the Royal Marine Commandoes. I sometimes think I would like to have been in the armed forces... but re-read that. The operative phrase is "have been". I don't think I would actually have liked it at the time.
To work where I did a little work. We spent much of the time waiting for a phone call from the school; a colleague had sent her five year old off to school in fancy dress to comemmorate World War One. The children were supposed to go as soldiers or refugees. This lad had gone in his Spider-Man costume.
I came home early, and we set off to Hawkinge. Today was Malcolm's funeral. The afternoon started with an open-air burial which was surprisingly well attended. A short but moving service in glorious sunshine.
From the cemetery we adjourned to our old church in Folkestone for a service of remembrance. There was over one hundred and fifty people in attendance there. The service was really well done; led by an old friend. I was Best Man at the vicar's wedding some twenty five years ago. Over the years we've rather lost touch, but it was good to catch up again.
There was a wonderful spread in the church hall, and we sat and chatted and remembered Malcolm. A brief toast to him was had in the garden of the Royal Cheriton Hotel over the road from the church, and then we said our goodbyes.
"Furry Face TM" needed a walk, so this evening we took him on a circular stroll round Ivychurch on the Romney Marsh. By an amazing co-incidence our route took us past a couple of geocaches. One was actually good fun; however the other was a utter disgrace, the sort of thing which gives the hobby a bad name.
And so home. "Furry Face TM" now needed a bath. Over a rather good omelette we watched "Hoarding: Buried Alive". That program bothers me. It can only be a matter of time until our house is that bad.
I shall start throwing things away...