I was all dressed up, waiting for the funeral parlour’s limo. Only the second limo ride in my life (the first was the same funeral parlour) and so they will be forever associated with unhappiness. Burying your parents is an unsavoury task, to say the least. The world you inhabit after is squidgy like rotten oranges, or like termites have been at your structural timbers.
So to start a blog today of all days, the first anniversary of Dad’s funeral (and as it turned out their wedding anniversary), is my act of faith. I’m saying to myself, as much as to you, that squidgy oranges and savaged timbers make compost in which to grow a kinder, gentler, more vibrant, creative and happy new life.
That’s the plan anyway.