Anyway, I had to attend a work's colleague's funeral. I did not know him that well; just a nodding acquaintance really. He led the Health and Safety monthly sessions and I nodded when falling asleep.
He was a keen musician in his spare time. He led the orchestra; safely I hope. His name was Phil R Moniker; although we used to call him Ivan Accident. (I'm good at making up names, don't you think?)
Anyway, the funeral service was not too long and incident free. Apart from the moment when the vicar caught his garments on the candle and nearly set himself on fire. Oh ... and also when one of the assistants was swinging that incense burner thing a little enthusiastically and hit an elderly lady in the face. She started crying and wailing and no one knew whether it was because of the pain or whether she was grieving Phil's departure.
Eventually, Phil departed to the cemetery, followed by a procession of cars filled with mourners.
I knew a short-cut, so I took a turning to the left and went via the out-of-town route. Unfortunately I got caught in heavy traffic and by the time I got there a number of people were standing around the grave.
The coffin had already been lowered into the ground and the vicar present ended his prayers with "May she rest in Peace".
"She?" I thought. Is there something about Phil R Moniker that I do not know?
I was so busy analysing what I just heard that I did not notice that this was a totally different vicar conducting the proceedings. Also, the audience, (is that what you call them?), were different to the one's in church half-an-hour earlier.
In my haste to get to the cemetery I had totally lost the plot! (Clever pun, don't you think?)
I was at the cemetery North of town instead of the one near the motorway.
I was about to retreat discreetly when I was approached by one of the mourners.
"She'll be really missed!" he said.
"Yes ... very much so ..." I said unconvincingly.
"Did you know her well?" he asked.
"Ehm ... years ago ... when I worked in London ... haven't seen her since," I lied so convincingly that I almost believed it.
"Really?" he said raising an eyebrow, "I did not know she lived in London. She said she hated it so much. Too busy, she said!"
"That's probably why she left," I lied to myself and to him once more, "too many people in London ... so busy!"
"It's tragic, the way she died ..." he continued as we were making our way out of the cemetery.
Now I was in real trouble. What do I say? I don't even know her name, never mind how she died. I remained silent. He continued after a few seconds.
"Knitting whilst sitting on the toilet!" he lamented.
I made some excuse about a meeting I had to be at and jumped in my car in a hurry!