Journeys

Every funeral this year has started with a journey west. To Torquay in February and then Hereford yesterday. I don't mind travelling long distances to say goodbye; the physical miles ensure time and space to deal with memories. A retracing of the doodles or flourishes on the map of my mind, if you like. But first this.

We were sat in uncle Steven's gleaming car in the crematorium car park this morning. We watched a careless driver cut across a grassy corner and crash into a wooden 'no exit' sign. He stopped, eyed up the wreckage, raised his hands in disbelief/embarrassment/exasperation and then drove on. Happily for my uncle Steven's pride and joy, this mechanical menace decided to park a long way from us.