Funeral

My wife revealed to me recently that she has already decided on the format and content of her funeral.  Up until this point it hadn't occurred to me to plan how I would like to be dispatched, but the more I think of it, the more I think it's a good idea.

I'm still finalising a few of the details, but I thought I'd post a draft of my current thinking, just in case.

1. I should like a biodegradable coffin.  I want to be cremated, so something that could go in the recycling boxes would be preferable
2. I should like the funeral service to be in our local village church. I don't believe in God, but the building is beautiful
3. If it can be arranged, I'd like a New Orleans style procession from home to the church. If it can't, our friend Rob plays the clarinet so maybe he can walk at the front playing selections of his choice (not Stranger on the Shore please)
4. I should like our vicar, Tony, to preside over the funeral. He does a lovely funeral. The only condition is that there should be no mention of God or how richly I will be rewarded in the heavenly afterlife
5. I should like someone to arrange for three or four mysterious, attractive young women to be in the congregation. They should be wearing black, their faces covered by veils and cry quietly throughout the service
6. I have yet to decide on the exact music for the service, but I know I'd like Striggio's Ecce Beatum Lecum playing as friends arrive and Allegri's Miserere as the coffin leaves the church. No hymns, but the congregation should sing The Flaming Lips' Do You Realize?? at some point during the service
7. I have also yet to decide on readings.  There will probably be an extract from Brideshead Revisited and a poem from John Cooper Clarke (probably Twat or Readers' Wives)
8. I want to be cremated at Loughborough crematorium.  Only family and close friends should be there. If you're not sure if you're a close friend, drop me a line and I'll let you know
9. As the coffin goes through the curtain, I should like Vaughan Williams' Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis to be played
10. I'm not sure what to do with my ashes.  If I go before my wife, perhaps she could scatter them on Cocoa Island in the Maldives
11. The wake should be held at the village hall.  Cucumber sandwiches, cakes and scones should be served with tea (no alcohol). If the New Orleans band is there, they should play a few selections from the Treme soundtrack. If they're not, maybe Rob could play again whatever he played earlier.
12. I should like an obituary in The Guardian. If this can't be arranged a mention on the The Afterword website would be nice

That's about all that I can think of a the moment. I will give this more thought over the coming months and, rest assured, you'll be the first to be notified of any changes.

Women

My last post on this blog seems to have been very well received.  I've had a number of women who have offered to have sex with me* and one of my friends has asked to be mentioned in my next post. So, the champagne is on ice, Carolyn, and it's a big shout out to Linda and the rest of the Sutton Bonnington posse!  Who'd have thought when I started this that I would be doing requests?

I've realised that, as I've got older, most of my close friends are women.  I have a few close male friends, but if I'm given the choice of a few beers with the lads or a cream tea with the girls, it's the lapsang souchong every time.

It wasn't always thus.  I was incredibly shy with girls as a teenager.  I think this was mainly down to my grammar school education at a single-sex school.  We had limited exposure to girls at the time when that exposure was needed most.  I suspect I was not alone in thinking that girls were a completely different animal to us boys.  For one thing, teenage post-pubescent boys spent all their time thinking about sex and all girls thought about was Marc Bolan and horseriding.

My shyness resulted in a few embarrassing dates and, I'm afraid to say, I treated some girlfriends rather shabbily.  It was the whole 'relationship' bit that I had a problem with in the early days.  My approach to chatting up girls varied from the 'juvenile Leslie Phillips' to the 'if I concentrate hard enough, that girl will ask me out'.

I was also incredibly naive.  The realisation that women aren't really that different to men didn't strike me until I was in my early twenties.  It certainly never occurred to me that women might enjoy having sex.

I went out with one girl for only a short while, but it was great fun.  She was small, bubbly and made me laugh.  I was 17 and my virginity had never even been remotely threatened (this didn't happen until I met my wife**). After we had been out a few times and we were snuggled up on the sofa of her parents' front room, she told me she was on the Pill.  My reaction was not, with hindsight, the obvious one.  I asked her what type it was, whether she was worried about the side effects and then I got my bus home.  I think it's what Germaine Greer would call 'having it delivered on a plate'. 

My university years were also largely women-free, dominated by drinking, football and following obscure 70s band around London (remember Burlesque, Supercharge and Roogalator?).  It was only when I went out into the world of work that I made some lasting friendships with women who taught me a huge amount about relationships and how the female mind and body worked.

So, I'd like to take this opportunity to apologise to some of my teenage girlfriends.  To Debbie, Joy, Bonita and a few others whose names I can't remember, I'm sorry I was such a git, but I was young, pulsating with hormones and hadn't read your instruction manual.  And to the girlfriend on the Pill, I have few regrets in life, but if I were to list them, my time spent with you on that winter evening when I was 17 is probably in the top 5.



*One woman.  And she put ;-) after her comment, which is internet-speak for "in your dreams".
** Not true.  My wife reads this blog, but she's easily bored and won't get down to these bits in smaller font at the bottom.