Country Funeral
At only 17 one of my close friends John lost his father. We all attedned the funeral at the smallest church I have ever been in, in a tiny and remote Norfolk village. The Vicar was very old and got Johns name wrong throughout the whole service. He also did not approve of his fathers choice to divorce and 'live in sin' with another woman, albeit for 11 years, and so completely ignored his fathers bereved long term partner throughout the proceedings. For me the most emotional part of any funeral is when the coffin is being lowered into the ground, and finally the earth is scattered on top. The second the first handful of earth was thrown on to the coffin John ran at top speed towards the trees. Everyone at the graveside broke down completely, poor John, it must have been too much for him to bear, and he had been so brave throughout the whole ceremony. Still blubbering I looked up a few moments later to see John appearing from the trees zipping up his flies... he had been desperate for a piss throughout the whole service and couldnt understand why prevously fairly composed friends and family had all crumbled. Too many pre-funeral beers meant he had been concentrating so hard on not pissing his pants he hadnt even noticed the Vicar called him James all morning.
(LurkingBon Sleeping on the job, Wed 17 May 2006, 14:32, Reply)