Another Birthday

Robbie was not the only birthday boy this week, on Thursday one of my son's childhood heroes celebrated his 60th birthday. Dennis the Menace one of UK's best known comic characters is 60!We were on holiday in Norfolk when my son bought his first Beano annual and discovered the chaos and mischief of Dennis and Gnasher. For us it was rather special because as a child with Asperger Syndrome he loved factual books and he was very uncomfortable about reading fiction. I remember him crying when he read Cat in the Hat because it didn't make sense. Dennis led him into a world of mischief and imagination and the Beano was his first stepping stone towards enjoying fiction. He was passionate about his comics and he amassed a huge collection of Beano annuals and comics and everything had a Beano theme. He had a wooden go-kart, pea shooters, a collection of catapults and other essential items to emulate his hero.

Perhaps Dennis the Menace wasn't a perfect role model, but he wasn't so bad, he taught my son to have fun, and the cartoons always showed that bad behaviour has consequences. Best of all he managed to turn my son into an enthusiastic reader and the little boy who loved the Beano so much is now a young man who hopes to study English at university.

Saying Goodbye

It has been a difficult sort of week. We had to attend the funeral of a much loved family member on Thursday. She was 82 but none of the family were ready to think of a future without her in it. Her funeral service suited her perfectly, it was full of all the things that really matter in life, to the very last she did things her way. It wasn't the funeral of an old lady, it was a moving farewell to a woman who had lived and loved and stayed young at heart to the very end. There is so much to learn when you look back at a life lived well. It reminds you to cherish the things that really matter such as family and not to stress too much about the things that aren't really so important.

There had been a rift within the family, that saddened her very much, but she never took sides and she kept on loving everyone involved and hoping that in the end sense would prevail. What she could not accomplish in life she achieved in her final illness and death, the rift is healed and her family realise that they need each other more than ever. It is a shame that she did not live to see everyone all together again, but to see the family united again at her funeral was a fitting tribute to a lady who knew that we only have one life and we have to get on and live it to the full.

Special Memories

The subject of death and funerals has been much on our minds recently and it is hardly surprising that thoughts of my first husband's last days have been very much to the fore. Sam was only eight when his dad died, so for him even more than the rest of us, grief has been a gradual process as he has grown in maturity and understanding. Eric pops up in conversation all the time, but sometimes Sam needs more specific information about his illness. Yesterday Sam and I were chatting about funerals and he told me that he remembered some parts of his dad's funeral vividly. I asked him if he remembered choosing the music for the funeral, he didn't, but when I told him about it he laughed out loud. Memories are precious, even the sad ones, they bring the people we have lost a little closer and sometimes when you least expect it you find yourself smiling. Here is an extract from my diary, it will explain why we had to laugh about the choice of music for the funeral.

Emily chose the music for the end of the church service, Eva Cassidy

was one of Eric's favourites and we used to play that CD in the car

all the time. Sam and Laura had taken responsibility for choosing the music for the crematorium. It was a difficult choice because Eric and I

didn't share the same taste in music. Eric liked Cliff Richard while

I quite definitely didn't! We both liked Eva Cassidy and the whole

family liked the BeeGees, Eric used to 'sing' along in the car and he was

surprisingly good at the high bits. They chose one of the songs

Eric liked best, I was horrified when they announced that they had

chosen 'staying alive' !! I had visions of the curtain closing as

that song rang out, Eric would have found it hilariously funny, but

it just wouldn't do! In the end Laura was put in charge of the

seating arrangements in the cars and together we chose Somewhere Over

the Rainbow by Eva Cassidy for the crematorium.

Finding The Right Words

Those of you who know Robbie will know that words are the one thing he is never short of. If fact the opposite is true, it is almost impossible to get him to shut up, he can talk endlessly about anything under the sun and you can rely on him to lower the tone whenever there is the slightest opportunity. He talks and talks and talks - he can fit more words into a minute than anyone else I know.

Being lost for words is a new experience for Robbie, but in the circumstances I am not surprised that he is struggling. He has been asked to speak at his friend's funeral, there is so much that he wants to say, but putting the feelings you have deep inside into words is not so easy, and finding exactly the right words to express how much Chris meant as a friend and colleague is difficult. It is almost impossible to sum up the qualities of a close friend in just a few brief sentences, but one thing is undeniable Chris knew how to live well. He loved his work, but it didn't rule his life, he filled his leisure time with all the things that were important to him. He packed a lot of living into not quite 40 years. I don't know if Robbie's words will adequately paint a picture of his friend, or express how keenly Robbie feels his loss. I can't do much to help, but I can at least make sure everyone will understand his words - I have be making him practice speaking slowly!

It's in the Genes

Robbie arrived home at 10pm last night, it had been a sad day and he was tired, but he had met up with many family members that he doesn't see very often. He said that after the funeral they were chatting about his uncle and the subject of hoarding cropped up, apparently he had a bit of a reputation for hoarding. Then the subject turned to Robbie's grandad and the marathon task of clearing his loft after he died. Apparently his grandad bought tools and paint brushes by the half dozen and squirreled the surplus items away in the loft because 'you never know when things like that will come in handy'. Of course it wasn't just tools, there were magazines and all sorts of odds and ends - so now I know where Robbie gets it from. Why did he have to inherit the hoarding trait, why couldn't he inherit the diy gene that his grandad, dad and uncles all shared!

As soon as Robbie got into the car I could tell he had been something with a very strong smell, at first he said it was a Subway roll, but then he remembered that he had eaten garlic mushrooms and scones (now there's a combination!). I didn't enquire further, I just tried not to breathe! He mentioned that he'd had a few pints (I already knew, I could smell it), he didn't too keen to define 'few' but he finally decided that it must have been three pints. I wasn't convinced by his maths but I knew it spelled trouble because he isn't used to it and it sends him to sleep. Sure enough he sat at the table with his laptop and before long he was sound asleep and leaning at a precarious angle. I kept waking him up but I couldn't make him go to bed so I gave up and left him downstairs. He came to bed at 3.30am after the dog woke him up!

Family Ties 13.03.08

I got fed up with all the commentary on the budget yesterday, I didn't expect anything good to come out of it, so he managed to live up to my (very low) expectations. I don't suppose it is Alistair Darling's fault that he looks like the Grinch, but it doesn't exactly inspire confidence!

It is the funeral for Robbie's uncle today, so Robbie will go to work as usual and then head for Norton Canes just before 11am. He couldn't find his black tie among the vast Burgess tie collection, I don't think he looked terribly hard. I said that a black tie was not essential and a dark one with a sober pattern would be OK. He gave me a hard stare and said 'not for a Burgess funeral' and he told me that he would buy a black one. I don't suppose Robbie possesses a sober tie anyway, his taste is veers more towards the loud and lurid.

Robbie Clone - It's Scary 12.06.07

Sam feels that he gets too many mentions on the blog and he thinks it is about time that I included some embarrassing memories about his siblings. I thought I would start with an episode that still makes us all chuckle. Sam and Robbie are frighteningly similar, but Robbie and Seb are clones - it is scary! Like someone else we know, Seb never gives the abridged version of whatever he has to say, he includes the most intricate details and his stories have been known to go on for so long that people have to beg for mercy.

On this particular occasion Seb and i were chatting about death, I can't remember why, but conversation with Seb is always a bit of a rollercoaster and the conversation can swerve from one subject to another alarmingly fast. Anyway, Seb started to tell me about the funeral of a relative who had died several years earlier and he told me how sad it was. He described every tiny detail of the funeral and I felt my eyes fill with tears as he explained how the widow of the deceased ran forward and tried to prevent the coffin from disappearing behind the curtain at the crematorium. It sounded so sad and we were silent for several minutes until Seb's voice burst through the silence as he said, 'Oh, I have just remembered, I got it a bit wrong'. I looked at him enquiringly and he continued 'actually, he was buried'.

Morning Madness 02.03.07

This morning was a mixture of sadness and frustration. Emily was getting ready to go to the funeral of her special friend Charles. She chose to go with her friends rather than me, I'm sure she was right, but I feel so inadequate to support her. She bought a nice purple top to wear, it was his favourite colour. I can't imagine how his family are finding the strength to cope.

Laura headed to school with all her art coursework, it has to be handed in for marking. She has worked very hard on it and I think it is good, but I can tell she is anxious about it. She sets herself very high standards and she is more critical of herself than is good for her.

Mornings with Sam are never easy, but this week has been increasingly challenging. Yesterday he made cookies with Laura and his school trousers ended up covered in cookie dough. As usual I got his clean clothes ready last night and set them out ready for him. This morning a 'Tasmanian Devil' with wild hair appeared in the lounge apparently dressed and ready for school. On closer inspection he was wearing yesterday's clothes and when required to go back and start again he produced a tantrum that even Robbie couldn't emulate. It seemed almost as if his speech and movement had been flicked to fast forward.

When he was eventually washed and dressed to my satisfaction we encountered another problem. Sam absolutely refuses to have school dinners, it has nothing to do with the 'magic finger' payment system, it is about his unwillingness to queue. I really struggle with crowds and I actively avoid busy places, so I have some sympathy with Sam, but I suspect this is another aspect of his autistic syndrome disorder. I really don't know how to help him, but I want to help him overcome the problem, otherwise his life will be really restricted.

I dropped him off looking relatively neat and tidy, but he will emerge from school this afternoon looking as if he has been dragged through a hedge backwards. Why do some people always look clean and neat while others couldn't look smart for more than five minutes if their life depended on it?

Sunday Morning Musings 07.01.07

I love lazy Sunday mornings, the rest of the day is usually busy but that extra couple of hours in bed is really special. This morning we found ourselves discussing Robbie's funeral of all things. No, he hasn't driven me to extreme measures yet! I am not sure how we got on to the subject; I think Robbie was talking about his will - such a cheerful little chap!

Perhaps Robbie was thinking about funerals due to the demise of Pauline Fowler – we had disagreed about the horse drawn hearse! He said that the ‘proper’ way was to wear black and to be solemn and dignified. I have sadly had quite a lot of experience of funerals and I genuinely believe that they should be a celebration of a life well lived (however short) and if the person has a faith then it is a beginning not an ending.

I told Robbie that he would have to outlive me otherwise everyone would wear bright clothes at his funeral and we would dance and sing ‘happy clappy’ hymns. I was joking of course (I don’t dance) but he was horrified and insisted that he would leave special instructions in his will! It won’t do him any harm to leave him wondering, you never know, he may find that he prefers my way in the end!

One of the things Robbie and I disagree profoundly on is God. I wouldn't say that we argue as such, we just trade insults! Robbie says that I am too 'happy clappy' and I say that he thinks doctrine has something to do with the NHS! Robbie's God is white, Anglo Saxon, C of E and most definitely male! I still find it hard to believe that inside my unconventional husband there is a traditionalist fighting to get out!

I have no time for all the pomp and ceremony, but Robbie loves it especially the candles and the incense. I am not outwardly unconventional in the way that Robbie is, but deep down I am perhaps more of an individual than him, I have strong, deeply held opinions/beliefs and I won’t follow the majority view unless I believe it is right. I think the conventional term for people like me is 'stubborn'!!

Jumping to a completely different subject, I am pleased to confirm that the Rabbit has been recaptured and (relative) harmony reigns in our household – for the time being anyway!