There could have been another funeral...
[Reposted from "Now, there was no need for that..."]

Nine years ago, my Nan died, in not the most pleasant way possible.

For the funeral we had a humanist minister (read: thankfully not religious). He was an idiot.

He got my Nan's name wrong. Well, to give more detail, he used her given name "A", rather than the one everyone used, "B". I didn't even know that "B" wasn't her real name until after she died. I think some people at the funeral wondered if they were at the right one. Apparently, it's a Welsh thing - name your kid one thing and call her another. Odd.

The minister then said that my Nan and her first husband (my Mum's Dad) had separated. Perhaps "been separated" would have been a better phrase - my grandfather died of a heart attack after laying paving slabs. My Mum was only 8, he in his mid-thirties. Naturally, she was somewhat upset about this cock-up, not to mention the name thing. She creased.

At the end I saw my Nan's second husband, who I know as my Grandad (ex-army captain, trained Gurkhas, still fits into his uniform despite being in his 70s) pinioning the minister against a wall and having some rather strong words with him. The fellow didn't get any cash for all this - and was pretty lucky to come out of it without serious injury. Twatbadger.
( Parmesan Quality b4 Quantity, Thu 11 May 2006, 19:47, Reply)