I have a huge family
some of whom I've still never met and don't recognise in the street. They're mainly my dad's family and it's because he doesn't really want to see them either. (They scare him.)

When I was 13, my grandma died suddenly (I say suddenly because she was like the way Eddie Izzard describes grans "I am a gran, I live forever", with a gran coat and a cake on her head). My family all live about 150 miles away and like I said, I get evils in the street for not recognising Auntie Whoever who I've not seen since I was six months old. So we have the funeral - what I remember of it it was a lovely service. The problems for me were at the wake.

Because I was her only granddaughter, me and the parents were the principal mourners. And so there was a neverending stream of people coming up to me, hugging me and saying "I'm so sorry about your loss." And nine times out of ten I didn't know who the hell they were. They could have been people off the street wanting free food and I wouldn't have known. So after smiling, thanking the first few of them and offering them cocktail sausages, I employed my dad to stand near me and then after they'd gone say "That's your Uncle Mal's sister's cousin" or whatever.

It was made all the more worrying as everyone gradually got drunker (and in some cases more aggressive - my Uncle Derek was banned from the social club for calling the barman something my mum wouldn't let me hear at the time), and then they all got into a row about which side of the family I looked most like.

And then there was a disco. Which I'm sure Gran would have appreciated, but at a funeral?
My family scare me.

(Incidentally for my funeral, again like Izzard says, I want an 'oh bum, she's dead' funeral, and then to be twung into a tree. With people in bright colours singing happy songs about flowers and bunny rabbits and John Denver.)
( Maladicta, Fri 12 May 2006, 0:46, Reply)