Er Gof Am Andrew

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Diary post today, as I've spent most of the day on the road, going to my cousin Andrew's funeral, and getting back up here on the bounce as we've lunch with the boys and Irene tomorrow. Andrew was just about four years younger than me, my dad's sister Margaret's child. I drove over this morning to Gornal Wood Crematorium, and despite the weird route through Telford that Apple Maps satnav took me, arrived with a good fifteen minutes to spare, my sister and husband arriving by cab a couple of minutes later.

We sat and waited, and waited, and waited; and no-one came. So we checked the order of services by the door of the chapel, and discovered we were an hour late. So we repaired to the local pub chosen for the wake and discovered that people were still there. Me and little sis spent just shy of an hour catching up with the few remaining cousins there that we knew: my uncle Sam's kids(!), and of course Andrew's dad, my uncle Brian, briefly, as we left. A long way for a quick pint and a jangle, but worth it; and Andrew would have had a good laugh at me and my sister missing the whole thing. Piss-ups and breweries, I don't know: what a pair...
 

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