21st November 2011

This week, we said goodbye to our next-door neighbour, Peter Miles.

Sue and I joined his close relatives for the cremation service at Kettering Crematorium on Wednesday, twelve mourners in total. Unknown to the family, there was a minor crisis before the service even began. As I took my seat in the Chapel of Rest, I realised my spectacles were missing. Not ideal, given I’d been asked to read a poem. I whispered my predicament to Sue and slipped out to check the car.

The sight that greeted me made me freeze mid-step: the undertakers had arrived and were in the process of lifting the coffin from the hearse. Fortunately, the man in charge was none other than Jonathan Stamp, a fellow rugby club chum. I explained my little problem, and, bless him, he had the coffin put back into the hearse while I rummaged in the car. Maddeningly, no spectacles. I resigned myself to squinting my way through the service until Jonathan, ever resourceful, persuaded one of the pallbearers to lend me his spare glasses. Thus armed, I returned to my seat just as the coffin entered the Chapel, and the service continued without further incident.

Afterwards, Sue and I joined the other mourners at an Italian restaurant in Harborough. Earlier in the day, I’d dropped Sue’s car at the garage for a new exhaust, the old one having inexplicably sprouted a beard from the tailpipe, so we collected it en route.

Earlier in the week, Jamie had turned up at Willow Bank with an interesting titbit: he’d spoken to Martin Johnson at work, apparently on a tour of the factory. The very next day, Johnson resigned as England Rugby Manager. I can’t say for sure Jamie was the catalyst… but Harborough RUFC is in the market for a new manager. Coincidence? On Saturday night, Johnson was spotted in the Cherry Tree pub, drowning his sorrows with club members Jonathan Stamp and Nick Allsopp.

Sue and I also joined a council-organised walk around Foxton and its famous locks, a leisurely four-hour ramble on a warm, sunny day. We paused at the Bottom Lock pub for a drink before heading home. The next day, I found myself pasting yet another picture wallpaper, this time in the boys’ playroom for Charlotte. Thanks to my recent training session at Jamie’s apartment, it went up quickly and painlessly.

Friday evening saw us enjoying a homemade Jogan Rosh with Charlotte (Suraj was off installing a computer in Corby) before heading to a Comedy Night at the rugby club with Jim and Brigitte. Three very rude, very funny acts had the packed clubhouse roaring. They’re booked again for April, we’ll be back.

Saturday morning, Sue was up early and in full catering mode, preparing salads for the buffet in celebration of Peter’s life. Charlotte came to help and later served food and drinks to the thirty guests. The salads vanished in record time, along with the meats and cheeses she’d prepared. I’d also made a video from photographs Doreen had provided, which was shown after several heartfelt eulogies.

I slipped away after the video, not out of disrespect, but because I had another buffet to officiate at the rugby club. The food there was less impressive, but as I’d already eaten, I didn’t mind. I stayed to watch the Tigers beat Ulster on TV after the matches on the pitch.

Sarah is in the thick of end-of-term revision and has a couple of exams left. Judging by our latest Skype call, she’s also inherited Nan’s sore throat. Nan, fortunately, is now fully recovered, though Charlotte has somehow picked up a streaming cold.

Lucas is rehearsing for his school Christmas play in December, and Sue and I have booked tickets. He’s growing up fast, who knows, maybe one day we’ll be watching him on The X Factor.

With the garden in hibernation, I’ve turned my attention to tidying the allotments and cleaning the swimming pool, which had gone a vivid shade of green in recent weeks. The thermal cover will stay on until the last of the leaves have fallen.