Obituaries

As I sorted my washing out yesterday, I half-listened to Radio 4. My attention was caught by “The Listening Project” when two people talked, one an undertaker, one a journalist, both now retired. The latter commented on the death of the obituary.

When he was a young journalist on a small provincial paper, one of his regular tasks was to collect the list of those who had died in the course of a week, talk to those who mourned the deceased & then write a brief obituary. People were keen to talk about their loved ones, somehow affirming the latter’s value. The journalist came to feel he was almost doing a social service in talking to these grieving people. In the course of it he learnt that most people had something of interest that they had done, though for some you had to dig deeper than others. None were boring.

I mention this because one of the things I used to value about our parish magazine was that the then vicar always wrote at least a paragraph about those in the parish who had died that month. I found it fascinating to read. It always showed an appreciation of the life no longer lived. This section of the magazine has now died a death with the change of priest & magazine editor.

These days the journalist reckons you get told not to disturb the privacy of the mourners. And yes, you can see in the case of the famous they maybe do get inundated with journalists at the door, on the phone, pestering. However, most ordinary people are pleased to talk about their loved ones. I sometimes think that’s what attending the wake after a funeral is about, as stories of the deceased are exchanged.

Proper obituaries are now only for the rich & famous. I’m sure you will find ones for Fidel Castro, Terry Wogan, Mohammed Ali etc. But surely lesser known people live just as interesting & valuable lives. It’s just that their lives did not have such a big impact & influence on the world nationally or internationally. But they did influence the lives of those who knew them, of that I’m certain, & often for the good.

Magnifient!

We pop along to the shops. As we turn inland away from the promenade, we’re greeted by a magnificent sight. Beyond the buildings lie the Pennines, covered by snow. Simply beautiful.

After our quick shop we decide to go on to the golf club to catch up with some friends we’ve not seen for a couple of weeks – too busy visiting the hospital all the time. As we go along this stretch of the promenade, our breath is taken away by the sight of the Lakeland Fells, also covered in snow. The contours of the fells are brought out by the pinky purple shading on snowy slopes. By this time the light is beginning to fade so the world is suffused with a pink glow. The water in the estuary is a sheet of brilliant glass.

It is difficult to imagine a much more beautiful spot than Morecambe on days like these. It truly makes you feel good to be alive & is guaranteed to raise any flagging spirits.

Last night was another very cold night. By now even the pavements are shining whitely. The thermometer was down a degree even lower this morning. If only winter would continue like this I wouldn’t grumble. Unfortunately I suspect the rain & grey will soon be back. But for now, I rejoice & do my best to appreciate what is literally before my eyes.

Bright morning

It’s one of those fabulous winter mornings. The sky is bright icy blue. Very clear & luminous. The lawns & roofs are covered with crisp white frost. The thermometer reckons it’s -9˚C today. It certainly feels cold enough. But despite the cold, this is the sort of morning that makes you feel good to be alive.

Having been stunned by the view from the window, I’ve duly set down to the task of preparing the dinner. We’re having that old British classic, Cottage Pie. The idea of such warming comforting food is just the thing on a day like this. It’s now already in the oven ready to switch on this evening. A nice easy meal for once.

Maybe part of my lightness of heart is that we had a phone call last night from the Breast Clinic, letting me know I can now drive once more & checking how I’m doing more generally. I confessed to being worried, not so much about me & my health, but rather the effect of all this stress is having on the Fox. He’s now regularly tingling down the side he had his stroke on & is also tending to limp again. He’s not sleeping well. I’m beginning to fear if he doesn’t find some way to relax a bit he will be heading for another stroke, the last thing we need at this point in time. The nurse said she would refer us to the CancerCare place nearby. Possibly a talking therapy, a massage or something else might help. As the carer of a cancer patient such services are on offer to the Fox as well as me. If nothing suits we can always say no.