Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Funeral

I'm back. Forgive the unheralded departure; an elderly great-aunt did me the disservice of dying suddenly. This was annoying – I missed out on a really good shoe sale at Sybella.

Anyway, the Smiths thus shuffled forth from their various nooks, crannies, and snake pits for the funeral. I do not like funerals. One is expected to cry, and try hard as I might, the best I can do is make my eyes water a little, but the main reason I dislike them is the assemblage of the elderly. There, but for the grace of God, go my genes. There are an astonishing number of women of la famille in various stages of going bonkers. Really – I am not just being unkind. Fully-fledged, diagnosed dementia. Dementia is, I think, the cruellest thing.

One spinster aunt, having led a perfectly respectable and charming life (decades ago, she used to make babies christening gowns for Smith & Caughey’s), is now in a home, where she wears a stetson hat (not sure where that came from) and thinks other people’s closets are her toilet. Another seemed fine, and untouched by any mental malady, until one Christmas her nearest and dearest were surprised – to say the least! - when her carefully wrapped gifts contained certain items removed from her own body. I shan’t say anymore about that, but it was utterly disgusting.

Also went to a house auction that Mr and Ms W were keen on. A complete dump it was – probably one strong breeze away from falling over – and it got passed in at $1.6 million. Even I was surprised. Someone asked Ms W about the Baby Jesus (she is looking very large now), and she started talking in a loud voice about passing wind. Why do pregnant women always want to talk about such things? Several men within earshot moved away, so perhaps it was a clever technique to put off the other bidders, and not really a hideous lapse in propriety.

I see the rain has continued, unabated, in my absence. I am sick of it, and am going to go on holiday, somewhere nice and warm, free of deranged elderly (counts Parnell out!) and gaseous women. I just have to nag convince Mr Smith this is necessary.

6 comments:

D-Man said...

Crying also makes your makeup run.

laughykate said...

Ahhh the joys funerals of old people. At the aftermatch of my grandfather's funeral the younger generations were forced outdoors due to overcrowding from hoards of the close-to-the-gravers. We were gathered down the bottom of the garden and my four year old nephew, who was beside himself with excitment at the giant garden things he was exploring and climbing over, asked his father,'Any dinosaurs down here Dad?' 'Nah mate,' said my cousin's husband and motioned his head back up towards the house, 'They're all up in there.'

Charlie said...

Ah Mrs. Smith :) Good to have you back!

Robyn said...

One year my parents were sent a blank Christmas card. My mum knew exactly which senile aunt had sent it, and thanked her.

unPC lesbian said...

While being a part time caregiver for my Nana in her advanced alzheimers she had a good trick. There was one caregiver she DID NOT like and to annoy her she would blow her nose on the curtains. Go Nana!!

To appease my mother I told her dementia skips a generation...bad luck for me!! I'm gonna put it down to mis, but well spent youth.

Mrs Smith said...

Goodness. This is all rather depressing, isn't it? I suppose if one is going to live to be a burden on one's relatives, one may as well have some fun blowing noses on curtains, etc while one's about it.