A funeral.

I only went to the funeral to support some good friends in our church family. How I enjoyed singing real hymns! Dear Lord and Father of mankind, Nearer my God to Thee, - and seven others!
I loved the fact that there was no time pressure that we get so much of these days. Anyone and everyone who wanted to speak was welcome to do so. And of course the service over ran badly! So what? It was no problem.
The officiating minister was 82 years old and had the most wonderfully deep, resonant voice and he said things like, 'Do you hear me, church? Church, say Amen!' So of course we did. And tried to mean it.
Outside the church the mother of the deceased came up to me and said, I recognise you! You taught my granddaughter.' There was a click in my brain and I suddenly realised whose funeral I was at. And I became a real part of it. Which meant that at the graveside I could join in the singing and dancing! even if I had to make up the words when I didn't understand the Shona language! Wonderful! I have to tell you that not much gets rid of sadness and grief like loud singing and energetic dancing.
I knew the dead woman quite well. She came into my classroom twice a day, most days. What a privilege to meet someone else that I taught to read, now studying law at university. This is one of the benefits of staying in one place for decades!
There might have been a couple of hundred people at the graveside, and it seemed like the same in the house. Thats twice in 24 hours I have been in rooms with standing room only! I found myself next to a delightful Zimbabwean lady and we had quite a chat about education in Zimbabwe, coming to live in England and so on. Then when she realised I was Scottish, she said that when she read about the Scottish referendum she thought to herself, ' Here comes Zimbabwe all over again.' So I need to read up about the history of Zimbabwe.
On the train home I sat beside a Russian from Latvia. He told me about Latvia getting their independence . . .