Angela’s funeral was yesterday. Her memorial was today. The unusual proximity of the two events due to family from from the US and Australia needing to return home.
The memorial was fab. Honestly, occasions like this could give death a good name. Except of course it would have been a lot more fun if Caroline were still alive. I bet it was something like this that spawned This is Your Life. Like at great funerals, we cried, we laughed, we even sang. I could get a taste for champagne at elevenses.
Maria’s comment about her mother’s funeral kept coming back to me. In case you don’t remember it, this is what she said:
the funeral brought to us all her friends and all our friends and, thus, we were, and are, surrounded and supported by their love and by the different aspects of her personality they unfold before us
A stone’s throw from the Southbank (well, if you outstandingly good at stonethrowing anyway) is St John’s church. It’s an elegant building, with a graceful spire.
In the surrounding garden yesterday evening, I saw a couple arrive and set out a picnic supper on the grass, enjoying the warm sunshine. I sat for a few minutes on a comfortable bench before heading home.
But when the sun goes down, the scene changes outside this beautiful church. Homeless people gather and vans arrive with volunteers serving food.
The church is also the headquarters of Southbank Mosaics, an outfit begun by ex-teacher David Tootill, dedicated to beautifying ugly areas, and the garden is full of examples of its work.
There are planters: