Thoughts of Death...
Well I suppose it has finally sunk in now that David is dead. It's very difficult to dismiss something like this as a bad dream, or someone's sick joke when you've sat in the crematorium chapel, seen the coffin, and heard the eulogy. There were times when I found it difficult to fight back the tears. It didn't help that the service was a typical dour Church of Scotland affair, that the hymns were depressing and the organist was so dire that he managed to add several bars of music to one of the hymns in the middle of the verse. The eulogy was in the form of a pray and it seemed at times as though the minister was spending more time evangelising about how we should put more faith into an invisible friend rather than celebrating the life that David had and his achievements.
What was even more annoying was that despite everything he has done for brewing and promoting Real Ale not a single person from the local branch of CAMRA could be bothered to show up. I mean, the guy is dead, and his funeral is no time to continue with petty, vindictive quarrels, though petty and vindictive seems to be the forte of the local branch, so why was I surprised?
It has just made me more determined that when I go I want something plain and simple. I want a wake and I want to be there, I don't want a God botherer eulogising over me to push forward his views of how my friends get their comfort (though a naked High Priestess shrieking and wailing might be a nice touch) I want my friends to get as pissed as newts at my graveside, whilst reminiscing about who I was and what I stood for. I don't want people who haven't seen me in years turning up and hijacking the affair, even if they are my family. I don't want a fancy casket, I just want a hole in the ground and a hawthorn planting on top. And if someone would be so kind as to put a few pints of beer in there to help me on my way, that would be much appreciated.