Yummy

I don't know if men's toilets in the US have condom vending machines in them but most of the ones in the UK do and most of them sell the kind of condom that come with the warning "Caution: For novelty use only. Not a prophylactic."

Flavoured, coloured, oddly-shaped and so on.

I did a double take last night, though, when I spotted one labelled "McCondom". What could it be? Cheesburger flavoured, perhaps? Closer examination of the machine revealed it to be Highland Whisky flavoured, which I'm not convinced is any better.

Slip? Or a joke that I didn't get?

Rob Brydon interviewing Ronnie Corbett last night.

"You have been noted for your sartorial eloquence."

Trailers

Last night I saw a trailer for the new Channel Four series, The Pillars of the Earth, a drama about the building of a cathedral in 12th century England. Now it's convention for trailers that you put your best bits in so that you attract viewers. If the dialogue on offer here represented the best bits heaven help us when we get to see the worst bits. 

"England has been steeped in blood for sixteen years" pronounced one character sententiously.

"You have been consorting with a married woman." thundered another.

"God's work does not blend with anarchy!" declared a third.

There was even a "why hast thou forsaken me" and a "God is on our side".

If these bits of clichéd nonsense are typical I shall be very happy not to watch the rest.

Normal Service

It's been a difficult couple of weeks.

I had no idea that there was so much to do when someone dies. From important stuff like applying for probate to release anything left in a will to the utterly inane trivial stuff like getting a TV license now that there is no one in the household eligible for a free pensioner's license. There are banks to be dealt with and insurance companies to be notified. There are pensions organisations and public registries. There are funeral directors and ministers to talk to.

It seems endless.

But eventually you get it done. It's done now. The funeral service was yesterday and I think we managed to send my father off in a style that would have made him proud. So many people turned up that the church, admittedly a small one, needed to put out extra seating. We had chosen some music for his service - the March of the Highland Light Infantry - his old regiment - to play him into the service and one of his old favourites, the Yellow Rose of Texas, to play him out. It left slightly bemused smiles on the faces of the congregation but I'd rather they remember him with a happy song than a sad one.

Anyway it all went as well as these occasions possibly can. And, as I think I've completed all the other needful tasks, it is now effectively over, leaving me all alone in the house to just reflect.

For the service we included a short poem that I had written for the occasion. It's rather more conventional and sentimental that I usually write and, if I'm honest, reads a bit like a verse from a sympathy card, but I'd like to share it anyway.

There is never enough time

For all the things we want to say,

And always people ask,

"Another hour. Another Day."

But when all the days are gone 

We should not live in regret

For those who have departed

Survive within us yet

And the words that went unspoken

Are written in each heart

Where those we loved can see the

For we never are apart.

And those are the last words I intend to commit to this blog regarding my late father except to add that I shall miss arguing with him about everything. It's going to be far too quiet around here from now on but I think it would be better not to spend too much time dwelling on it.

And I intend to return to my  more usual postings very very soon now. As soon as I have something to say.